Our time in Lovely Ouray is down to days. A foot of new snow calls for Bobbie to "man" the shovel. As soon as she's finished her chores we can go out and play.
Even though Bobbie's eyes roll when I say it, there's just something about a new snowfall that calls me outdoors no matter the temperature. It's like a fresh coat of paint that covers all the grit, grime, cinders, and muck of wintertime in the mountains.
Snow slowly melts from Mine Shack's roof between storms and forms stalactites of crystal, an artsy frame for Imax views.
But this storm has yet to move on. Clouds swing low through The Crevice. Sun and mountains find occasional peepholes that tease and add drama. We choose to hike Oak Creek trail again, just to see how much snow fell a thousand feet above town.
Patches of blue sky make liars out of the weather-guessers. We spy on town from the overlook, ant like cars and townies going about their business. My camera comes out with higher frequency on days like this. It slows us to crawl but it's ok, we are "smelling roses."
Near the top, across Oak Creeks mighty chasm, Bobbie spots a solitary Bighorn Ram. He paws at snow in search of breakfast. Poor guy.
|"Bridge of Heaven" uncovers in the distance. Note the deep grove of our well worn trail lower right.|
Drama unfolds minute to minute as clouds part and close ranks, part and close ranks.
Note to self: Take down Christmas lights…