A Change is as Good as A Rest
That's something my mother always used to say: a change is as good as a rest. Was never quite sure what she meant and was afraid to ask. She often muttered it under her breath when my father was stepping out of line, which he did frequently. Today though, I GOT IT. The brown we see everywhere changed to sparking white. Snow in the desert. The air was crisp; the road misty with melting snow morphing into fog; the landscape was pristine. We got out of the house early and drove just north of town, to a slightly higher elevation, where the snow was sticking to the ground and plants and not melting. I swear, it was as good as travelling to another state. It was such a lift. Here we go:
