Here in Southeast Arizona there are usually a few snowfalls every winter but they generally don’t amount to much, and the sun usually melts away the snow by noon.
On the last day of this year we’ve experienced an exception this morning. Over six inches of light and insubstantial snow is clinging to every surface and the landscape has been transformed.
It’s a conundrum: how does such light and airy snow cling so tenaciously to tree branches? It seems as if the slightest waft of a breeze would tumble these improbable structures into masses of wet white wreckage, but the porous piles continue to accumulate.
An apricot tree made a pleasing backdrop for a puzzled cane cholla branch supporting an improbable arc of snow:
The snow emphasized the geometry of clumps of agave:
Two close-up shots of Arizona Cypress foliage peering out of clumps of snow:
Sage, Bev’s young female collie, hasn’t seen much snow in her short life. Bev and Sage are home in Nova Scotia during the summer and therefore miss the Canadian snow every year. At first the collie was afraid to venture out into the deep snow this morning, but after seeing me walk through it unscathed she plunged around the courtyard in wide arcs, eating snow and obviously having a good time: