On occasion, our place in the sun receives the long cast of winter's shadow, and the warmth that feeds our soul receives a brief respite under a cold blanket of crystalline beauty.
The lower lawn, looking down toward the goldfish pond. One of the first orders of business on a morning such as this is to shake the snow off all the branches, lest the brittle mesquite break under the weight of the snow.
The main tub at the lower camp. Where's Waldo?
Inyo County Search and Rescue making sure everyone has survived the storm.
The Lotta Palapa in the old days. There is no place like home! (Certainly not anymore.)
The man who never got his signals crossed. Lee complained that on this morning his TV picture might have looked a little snowy.
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