Scratch One Christmas Party
Saturday evening Reno got it's first real snowfall of the season. As it so happened my boss was also hosting a Christmas party at his home in the south meadows that night, and Melissa and I had been invited to attend.
We set out from our home in the north valleys a little after four p.m., just as the sun was going down and the roads were starting to freeze over. Cars were sliding on Highway 395 like it was a skating rink and by the time we got to Parr Boulevard traffic had slowed to a crawl. Actually, the word "crawl" implies too much vigor. The sides of the road were littered with spun-out and stranded vehicles, and the flashing lights of police and tow trucks gave the gloaming an especially eerie look. It quickly became obvious--there was no way we were going to make it to the south meadows, much less home again at a much later hour when conditions might be even more hazardous. So we called my boss to let him know we couldn't make it, turned around and went home. We ended up spending the night cooking pasta and watching the snow fall onto our backyard.
Some good news: I am happy to report that our seven-month old Lab-Border Collie mix, Keela, absolutely loves the snow. This was her first real experience with the stuff, and after just a few seconds of confusion she took to it like a duck to water. When we got up this morning the sun had come out, and so we took the dog to one of her favorite places, the long open valley that stretches off into the Great Basin just to the east of our neighborhood. There's nothing up there but miles and miles of sage-covered mountains, peppered with the occasional stand of pinon pine. In the fresh snow the tracks of jackrabbits were visible everywhere, and our already hyperactive puppy was absolutely beside herself with excitement.
I have to admit that the clean air of the desert makes me pretty excited too, although I don't have the energy of an seven-month old puppy to express it with. Days like today make me realize what a rare and wonderful privilege it is to live in a place like this. People often ask me why I am so taken with the mountains and the open spaces of the West, and while it's the sort of thing that a person can (and that I probably will) spend a lifetime trying to put into words, I usually tell people that I love living in a place where the land is still bigger than the people. One day developers will no doubt clear the valley east of my neighborhood out to build yet more houses and more of the attendant residue of suburbia, but for today it is still raw desert, the way God intended it. For one day least, that fact made one man, one woman, and one little black dog very happy. Keela wasn't able to catch a jackrabbit today (and she probably never will--they're very wary and much too fast for her), but it's certainly nice to have space in which to chase them.
We set out from our home in the north valleys a little after four p.m., just as the sun was going down and the roads were starting to freeze over. Cars were sliding on Highway 395 like it was a skating rink and by the time we got to Parr Boulevard traffic had slowed to a crawl. Actually, the word "crawl" implies too much vigor. The sides of the road were littered with spun-out and stranded vehicles, and the flashing lights of police and tow trucks gave the gloaming an especially eerie look. It quickly became obvious--there was no way we were going to make it to the south meadows, much less home again at a much later hour when conditions might be even more hazardous. So we called my boss to let him know we couldn't make it, turned around and went home. We ended up spending the night cooking pasta and watching the snow fall onto our backyard.
Some good news: I am happy to report that our seven-month old Lab-Border Collie mix, Keela, absolutely loves the snow. This was her first real experience with the stuff, and after just a few seconds of confusion she took to it like a duck to water. When we got up this morning the sun had come out, and so we took the dog to one of her favorite places, the long open valley that stretches off into the Great Basin just to the east of our neighborhood. There's nothing up there but miles and miles of sage-covered mountains, peppered with the occasional stand of pinon pine. In the fresh snow the tracks of jackrabbits were visible everywhere, and our already hyperactive puppy was absolutely beside herself with excitement.
I have to admit that the clean air of the desert makes me pretty excited too, although I don't have the energy of an seven-month old puppy to express it with. Days like today make me realize what a rare and wonderful privilege it is to live in a place like this. People often ask me why I am so taken with the mountains and the open spaces of the West, and while it's the sort of thing that a person can (and that I probably will) spend a lifetime trying to put into words, I usually tell people that I love living in a place where the land is still bigger than the people. One day developers will no doubt clear the valley east of my neighborhood out to build yet more houses and more of the attendant residue of suburbia, but for today it is still raw desert, the way God intended it. For one day least, that fact made one man, one woman, and one little black dog very happy. Keela wasn't able to catch a jackrabbit today (and she probably never will--they're very wary and much too fast for her), but it's certainly nice to have space in which to chase them.
posted by Yukon Sully | 8:07 PM
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