Snow Globe World

Friday morning, my last Friday--my last day!--in Craig, Colorado, arrives.

I've enjoyed living and working here. If there's a way to uproot the school and plop it down in the Mojave Desert for a few months, I'd be alright with that.

Of course, I know that's impossible, but I think about it as I get ready for the day.

I have to pick up Larry from the Hayden airport at ten. With any luck, the RV will be ready to go by eleven...or noon at the latest!

At eight a.m., I hear Dale tinkering on the engine of the RV. I step out the side door to find him with his head in the engine. "Good morning!"

"Good morning! When are you leaving? I'm trying to get this done today. It's really the last day."

My heart sinks a little. Trying to get this done? I thought it would be done. I explain my plans and that I'll be back at the school by eleven or noon.

"Well, I hope we can have it done by then," he says.

Hope?

I shrug it off. I'm in the Lord's hands. This is my going-with-the-flow moment. The big lesson of 2023 is this: Plans Derail. Get used to it. There's no changing it.

So I give this to the Lord, get in the minivan, and drive.

I've got two hours until I have to be at the Hayden airport. I don't want to drive around Craig and think last time seeing the Starbucks, last time driving past that cute little house, last time seeing my doctor's office, last time... I've been doing this since last Friday morning when I thought last full Friday in Craig.

Now, based on Dale's words, I'm imagining another potential last full Friday in Craig. I don't want this to be a thing, but go with the flow.

So to go with the flow, I drive.

Jesus, take the wheel.

I head east toward Hayden, thinking I've got time to make it to Steamboat Springs one last time for the Natural Grocer's. I'll pick up those blueberry flax muffins, some apricot oil, and...

Hey! Look at those trees!

Unlike this morning's frosty grass and trees near Craig, the frosty trees between Hayden and Steamboat absolutely glow with light as the sun gets higher in the sky. The sky is clear, Colorado blue, almost heaven at this elevation. The contrast between the blue, blue, impossibly blue sky and the thick frost on the trees is dynamic.

I remember reading about hoarfrost somewhere. The word hoar means "aged or grey-haired." As such, this type of frost resembles thick grey hair or whiskers on everything. The frost occurs here because the moisture rising from the Yampa River lands on objects--like trees--with a temperature below freezing. The warmer moisture attaches and freezes in place. (For more on this phenomenon, read this.)

As I'm driving, I can barely take in the beauty of it all: the yellowish rock wall running beside the highway on one side and the meandering Yampa River on the other. The hoarfrost paints the trees so they glisten pure, white in the sunbeams radiating though a clear, crisp atmosphere of the bluest blue.

I want to stop and take it all in.

Looking at the clock, I realize I have two choices: make it to Natural Grocers or find a side road and get out of the car.

I pull over on the next side road and start snapping pictures. I let Buena out but hold her back as an older man driving a pick-up truck passes and waves.

In the still, sparkling world. Suddenly, I recognize the glittery pieces of tiny ice crystals in the air. This is what it feels like to be caught inside a snowglobe.