Rosh Hashanah

September new year

a northeast wind pelts my cheek

with winter's sharp seeds. 

After a long string of balmy days, a slap of winter. Sunday the southwest wind coasted over the flats like a breeze caressing the ocean; Monday her northeastern sister took over and brought currents of bone-chilling cold. A rain laced with dust from the potato harvest spattered the windows all day as the wind beat at the roof. By afternoon the sun returned, and the clouds lifted to reveal a thick cloak of snow along the spine of the Culebra. 

Beach Combing in Winter

With snakes asleep

and prickly pear softened by snow

we wade into the winter desert.

One of my favorite activities in the world is a land-based version of "beach combing" -- wandering through the sparse ocean of sage, rabbitbrush and prickly pear to hunt for rocks, bones, sticks, colored glass and other bits and pieces. I once found some casino tokens that had been corroded to black slivers by the sun, and occasionally I'll come across someone's tidy graveyard of beer bottles and coffee cans. I feel safer beach combing in the winter, when the rattlesnakes are hibernating underground. The thorns of the cacti are either soft and mushy after a snow or brittle and frail after a few dry weeks, so they're not as hazardous to the feet.

This land looks like an ancient, dry lake bed . . . because that's what it is. That's la Culebra in the background, the mountain range named for its serpentine curves.

La Culebra

winter sun

warms the stone snake

La Culebra despierta

This mountain range is known as la Culebra. In this pale dawn light, on an icy December morning, it really does look like a snake warming itself in the sun. As the sun rises, its light seems to illuminate the mountains from within. Today will be a good sun day; we'll have plenty of heat and power.