May 1, 2016 9:01 AM
I awoke to snow.
The snow is the reason the Great Nomadic Horde encamps just south of here, down in a lower, warmer elevation. It is dusty down there. And windy. And crowded. That is the cost of the Horde’s fear—dust and winds and crowds.
I’ve been up here in the higher elevations for a month now. Each evening, I park the van facing northeast. Each morning, I open the van’s cargo door and the solar system’s largest radiant heater shines in and warms the interior. I slide the easy chair forward, into the sun and bask in the warmth, drinking my coffee while watching the elk and the birds and the squirrels enjoy the Spring.
I have the woods to myself. No dust, no winds, no crowds.
Four weeks of beauty and peace and serenity. The cost of all this Beauty? Two days of snow.
And even the snow is beautiful.
The mind has its fears—the heart has its pleasures.