Trails on the mountain are stiff and jumbled with snow, so I walk the streets of Government Camp. I head uphill, enjoying the mountain cabins that fill the little village. Snow still blankets the ground, though the streets are bare. Water flows somewhere under the snow, the result of a warm day.
There has been a lot of plowing in this town. Heaps of snow make sedimentary cliffs beside driveways and streets. At the ends of steep roofs, snow has slid into mountainous piles. Three to six feet of dirty pockmarked snow fills most front yards. People here adapt. One house had a clear driveway, six feet of snow in the front yard, and as if worshiping the sun on a raised deck, lawn chairs perched on the top of the snow.
After my walk, I head up the mountain to paint the sunset. Remembering the show at my back last night, I face south toward Mt. Jefferson.
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