First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is...* This morning there is no mountain. There is no mountain, no sky, no junipers, no pinons, no roads. There is nothing but snow coming down on adobe walls, stacking up on the branches of the otherwise bare winter trees, and piling up on the ground. No mountain.

But this mountain has been my steady point since we arrived here. Now I look in its direction and see nothing. No mountain. Hey!!! I want my mountain!

We take stock of the cupboards and decide that there is food enough for several days. There is left over green chili stew with lamb. There is cheese and milk and butter and tortillas, cereal and a little cibatta left over from the farmer's market, where we also got the green chilis and lamb.
We have power and the fireplace. And candles.

I am rather hoping that we could really get snowed in. A big snow day or two. I don't care if it is Christmas. All the better. There's something almost exciting about weathering the storm, hang blankets in the doorways, build a big fire, heat food on the hearth.

But in actuality, it seems that the snow is slowing down, the cloud is lifting a little and we are just having a little winter weather. All will be back to normal soon and maybe the mountain will show up again. It is just a little disappointing.

But why have expectations? It is what it is. It snows, then it doesn't, then it does. First there is the sky, then there isn't, then there is.

It is a knee jerk process to see something (e.g., the snow) and project a possible scenario, get all worked up about it, feel ready to deal with it, believe and act as though it is a done deal, and miss the now. The now is that the sky has lifted a bit, there is a brighter light, I can see some junipers albeit covered in snow, and the moving vista is beautiful in its changes. Just dig it.

And maybe soon there will be the mountain again.




*There Is A Mountain, by Donovan Leitch