"I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the nonhuman world and somehow survives...Paradox and bedrock."-Edward Abbey

22 February 2010

After Snow Meditation

It is the day after a three day snow storm. A cold sun shines on fresh powder. Thin breezes stir snow devils along the tall peaks. The very last of the flurry flakes, a deathrattle of the storm, spiral down from singular clouds drifting and disintegrating slowly across a frigid sky.

All told, there was maybe six or eight inches, at most, of fresh powder. Enough to cover the old snow and making travel along the roadways slower. Further south and west, the storm had more of an impact. Here, it was a dusting and some residual cold.

The snows have been heavier in the southwest. It has been said the greater metroplex has gotten more snow this year than we have. A ski patrol ranger at the cantina mentioned prayers he has for more snow in the next month. Mad Mike told Sabina and I it would have to snow four inches a day, every day, from a week ago until the spring runoff, for us to catch up to our average snowfall around here. There is fear that some of the rafting companies will not do so well come the summer.

So it goes...

The American Maghreb is not known to be a wet place. It never was, except maybe several millions of years ago when it was an ocean. There are those who would say the growing population in this part of the continent is exacerbating the problem. Water, the most precious substance in all the world, moreso than gold, folding paper, coins, rubies, or glass beads, becomes an even more valued commodity in times of drought. Cities need to satisfy their vanity with greenways, parks, and lush trees. Farming stations need to make sure their crops grow and livestock have something to drink, lest there's famine.

That ski patrol ranger told me the conditions up at Loveland, right there along the Roof of the World were worse than the year of the Hayman wildfire, eight years ago. I remember that summer; hot and dry. It's the only time I can remember water not being poured as a courtesy at coffeehouses or restaurants. A horticulturalist I was fucking at the time told me it would most likely only get worse. She was not exactly kind, or sane, for that manner, but I'm willing to say she was spot on with that prediction.

The spring runoff is still a couple of months off and the next two months are known to be two of the snowiest around here, so there is always a chance for a righteous blizzard, the type that cripples cities and hampers travel for days. I know there are those who are hoping and preying for such a happenstance. They're probably quite willing to sacrifice a virgin. Well, if one could be found.

No comments:

Post a Comment