Snow.
Not sticking, just turned into freezing rain, but still....snow?
Yep. Springtime in New Mexico. Didn’t think we were like that here, right? Thought it was all like a western. With John Waynes and Clint Eastwoods aplenty, and cacti as far as the eye could see. Right?
Oh, and dirt. Lots of dirt.
Well, that’s like half right. The other half is a juniper season that won’t quit and miles and miles of retirees from Texas and Arizona who drive in (slowly) to point at the bushes and drive off the road and/or slam on their brakes while regarding the many, many mountains that we have going on here in Santa Fe. Oh, and pointing at the mountains. You have to point. Also, make sure to ask everyone if they speak English, because obviously we are all Spanish speakers, what with the New Mexican food everywhere and my pale Irish/German pastiness.
I know, I know. NM has its share of weird things to contribute, but for me, Spring is all about forgetting to bring a jacket when it’s 70 in the morning and then abruptly drops 30 degrees so I freeze the rest of the day, along with a perpetual sinus headache and then having to say, “Yep, I speak English” to anyone ever while trying not to giggle because I am, after all, quite seriously, the least Hispanic looking person on the planet.
Can we be done with this? Spring, you are officially the worst. And now I have to go drive in the mess. Barf.
