Blizzard

 

 

Last night's drive from the Salt Lake City airport was a blizzard with 24 inches of snowfall at 10 PM. Windshield wipers froze on the windows, the median strip and yellow lines obliterated as the car swung from side to side over frozen snow crusted asphalt. Houses buried in snow glowed with lights inside like tiny miniature Christmas villages. I think I hear jingle bells but no it is silent except for the crunch of tires on fast falling snow.

 

 

This morning it is 4 degrees Fahrenheit and the light in this town is dazzling with blinding white rugged mountains and cobalt blue skies. My breath smokes like a dragon as I walk the plowed sidewalks in Park City, Utah.   Skiers and wannabes stamp and puff and scurry into steamy cafes for frothy lattes and cinnamon buns.  Antique shops and Art galleries open doors welcoming.

I am ready for a day around the fire at the lodge. My thrift store finds the Best. I am wearing a fake white curly lamb jacket bought for under $7 and a Peruvian wool cap for $1.  An old red plaid flannel shirt and a long skirt (made from a found shower curtain of grey ruched fabric ($2) wrapped and pinned and secured with a man's black belt)  is worn over  black wool leggings.  All this bottomed off with black jump boots and for color and warmth a blue argyle sock tied around my throat !  My backpack full of Agatha Christie mysteries, sketchbook, and Sharpie pens.