The storm is gone now for a while, until the next one comes along. The solstice informs us that winter has just begun, and the daylight is increasing. Sunshine and relative warmth have returned to the land of enchantment. I shoveled my way to the road and so Louie and I drove into Zuni. Except for the fried chicken & red chili, none of our goals were accomplished.  The drive was pleasant in the winter sun and we needed to get out. The same road trip we have made dozens of times, today a little different.
    

 The length and intensity of the storm left its mark on the landscape, the inhabitants and their dogs. The power and isolation of winter was a mostly enjoyable time, but sunshine and blue sky are a welcome sight. Our world has expanded again to its previous size. We can drive out and interact with the world or stay home and marvel at the horizon out beyond the white prairie. The dogs dance on the rocks that have been cleared, and then play in the deep snow: burrowing, drift-diving, and the dog equivalent of snow-angels. 
    

 The snow and wind that isolate the ranch house bring into a narrow focus the small world allowed by the weather. Truly a situation where a person “tastes the weather and touches the storm”. The world shrinks to the limited visibility of a snow-storm.
    

  At this time of the solstice, I wonder about the ancient timekeepers chipped into the rocky walls of the region’s canyons. The deep snows keep me away from the seasonal markers I have been watching. I trust that whatever they have been doing for 800 or more years, they are still doing it. Hopefully I can be there for the equinox. My sundial here at the ranch is much easier access; I can see it from the west door. I have been observing and making notations of important days in stone under the shadow at sunset. Most of those markers are under the snow now, south of the shadow of the solstice.