The wind blew hard all night, banging at the fan vents on the roof and giving the joists an occasional new-house crack.
This morning brought snow. It's not the deepest or most long-lasting snow I've seen since I left the mountain west years ago, but it's the earliest.
This is mountain snow--light, dry, tiny little snowflakes, the kind that sparkle in nighttime headlights like silver glitter sprinkled on the Christmas cards children make in school.
I'm so glad to be home again.
We didn't really intend to go up there; we were headed for a place called White Signal to satisfy my curiosity about headlights that we can see way out in the desert from our patio. We traveled a little beyond White Signal into the southern segment of the Gila National Forest. Ted pointed out Gold Gulch Road.
It looked interesting and I was driving, so I turned onto it. Ted immediatly grew uneasy, thinking that we were setting out on a trespassing adventure, but the signpost at the highway claims that Gold Gulch is a county-maintained road. It's also in the middle of a national forest and I didn't see any private property signs. Ted didn't notice what I did, though, and got more and more jittery. He kept saying "There's a good place to turn around" and, looking at his GPS, "this road just goes on for a couple of miles like this and then peters out. I don't think there's any reason to go farther." We crossed a couple of cattle guards and met a couple of oncoming ranchers before the road wandered back into the national forest and Ted calmed down.