Totally invisible

3 02 2026

You can’t see her if she can only barely see you.

Truly. πŸ™‚

(Piedra.)





All the way there

2 02 2026

See ’em? πŸ™‚ Look for the white spot, above the ridge of rimrocks … then note the dark spots (that aren’t trees) spread out to the left.

That’s Temple’s and Madison’s group. Out of sight to the right (northish) is Filly Peak and the main interior of (and main entrance to) Spring Creek Basin. FROM that interior, where I’d been 15 or 20 minutes earlier, I couldn’t see the mustangs from the other side of Filly Peak (familiar visitors will know that the road runs along the north/northeastish side of Filly Peak). But I saw Buckeye’s, which led me to leave the interior, drive out and around and hike up what I call corral hill, which is where I was when I took this pic, looking northwestish toward Utah’s La Sal Mountains. This is one of my favorite views in the basin (*note: like mustangs, you can’t have just one *favorite* view?!?!). And then I spotted the ponies. You couldn’t have seen them at all from the interior road, but they’re no more than a 15-or-so-minute walk from that road. From this vantage, though, Buckeye’s were less than five minutes below me back to the right(ish).

In addition to wanting to see Buckeye’s band, I hoofed it up the hill to try to catch this rising before it got too high:

This is what Google AI has to say about the February full moon (it’s actually full on Sunday, Feb. 1):

The February full moon is most commonly known as the Full Snow Moon because February typically brings the heaviest snowfalls of the year in North America. Other traditional names, often rooted in Native American, Colonial American, and European traditions, include the Hunger Moon, Bear Moon, and Eagle Moon. 

Key Facts About February’s Moon:

  • Alternative Names: According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, other names include the Bald Eagle Moon (Cree), Bear Moon (Ojibwe), and Raccoon Moon (Dakota).
  • Significance: It reflects a time of cold, deep winter, limited food sources, and the need for endurance.
  • 2026 Timing: The 2026 Full Snow Moon peaks on February 1 at 5:09 p.m. EST.Β 

Other, less common names for this lunar cycle include the Wind Strong Moon (Pueblo) and the Goose Moon (Haida).

***

Yes, I almost did fall off my chair laughing when I read that the February full moon is “most commonly known as the ‘Full Snow Moon.'” I mean, really? πŸ™‚ Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Not to mention arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! If you look really closely, you can see some lingering patches of snow in the above pic, and that’s several layers (what I like most about the pic) rising to the final ridge, which is actually outside/beyond Spring Creek Basin, but you’ve gotta look *really* hard.

The first layer of grey Mancos shale is the south end of what I call bachelor ridge, then the sandstoney-topped mesa known as Knife Edge, then the actual piΓ±on-juniper-topped ridge that is a north/northeastish boundary ridge of the basin, then the ridge with its old burn scar(s) most commonly and easily accessed from Dry Creek Basin (can you imagine anyone calling Dry Creek Basin “Dry Creek” like some people refer to Spring Creek Basin as “Spring Creek” (which, as we all know, with its tributary arroyos, drains Spring Creek *Basin*)? (how’s that for a whole lotta parentheses?? :))).

How about a new name this year (which may or may not echo Februarys past … and presage Februarys future): Deep-Anxiety-Inducing No-Snow Moon? Bummer.

But to end on a happy note, another glimpse of the ponies on the “bench”:

Let alone the wild ones, how ’bout THEM layers? πŸ™‚ Interestingly (?), the part(s) that look like people’s idea of Utah are in Colorado, and the parts that look like people’s idea of Colorado are in Utah. Yay, Southwest! πŸ™‚





January dun

1 02 2026

Dundee looking super pretty in the last, beautiful light of a 55-degree last-day-of-January evening (argh).

Yeah, not much snow left out there. πŸ™‚





Snow-as-candy

31 01 2026

Let’s end the run of snow pix (while patches exist, the snow is pretty much gone now) with this fun one of Madison slaking her thirst by eating handy snow on a bank from down in a shallow arroyo.

Another benefit of the snow: The mustangs don’t have to travel to find water; it’s right at their hooves.





Remnants

30 01 2026

Wary and wily Chipeta didn’t immediately follow Seneca and some of the band down the hill to water. I took this image of Chipeta from not far above where I took the pic of Seneca in yesterday’s post, minutes earlier.

Note how all the snow had melted – she’s standing on a bit of a “bench” in a semi-long-sloping south-facing hillside – but there’s still snow gilding the four-wing saltbush at right. How funny and amazing is nature. πŸ™‚





A difference of minutes

29 01 2026

Seneca’s band had gone to water, and as their way to water doubled as my way back to my buggy, I moseyed along with them.

The sky was clearing to the northwest, but the clouds were still patchy and heavy enough in the western and southwestern and southern sky to block most of the late sunlight when I took this pic of Seneca right above the evaporation cover of the water-catchment trough. Temple Butte in the background was catching some of the gorgeous light that *was* breaking through.

And just a few/several minutes later (less than 10 minutes later from my image files’ info), from down the hill and back at my buggy … the above scene. The sun found a last-minute sneak-peak hole in the clouds to light up the lower slopes of Temple Butte. Just … kinda … wow. πŸ™‚

“Why do you keep going back?” I sometimes get asked. … Really? πŸ™‚ Because it’s never, ever, ever the same. Always, heart-liftingly, beautiful.

(And the same note: While there’s still a little, very patchy snow out there, it’s way melted from the images captured above.)





It’s all there

28 01 2026

See the eagle? πŸ™‚





Clearing

27 01 2026

Again, it’s not nearly still that snowy, but you’ll get some snowy pix because I took a lot, and I like to remember how it looked when the world was (mostly) white. πŸ™‚

Sancho has his super-cute winter mustachio again, and I SO want to get a closeup pic of it. It’s a goal.

Meanwhile, he was looking warm and cozy in his winter fuzzies while catching up to the band. Not far to the left was a whole band of south-facing hills/ridges – bare of snow. Some day soon, hopefully it will snow again.





Catching the runners

26 01 2026

The snow Saturday morning lured me into Spring Creek Basin twice that day. The first time was shortly after sunrise, and while the mustangs were frustratingly far from any accessible areas, the pronghorns were fascinatingly cooperative! While that sort of looks like a giant cave opening behind them, that’s the north rim of Spring Creek canyon (viewed from the southeastish). The pic of Chipeta yesterday was taken much later in the day; compare the melting that had been at work.

Pronghorns (not actually antelope) are North America’s fastest land mammals. Here, they were just moseying. When they *really* run, they are FAST!

They’re more sprinters than marathon runners … and thankfully for me and my camera, they’re wonderfully curious. πŸ™‚

(Note that the landscape doesn’t look like that AT ALL by this morning (or even by yesterday morning). It was cold (high of 34F?), but in Colorado, sunlight means even more than temperature.)





Native pinto

25 01 2026

Who better than a pinto girl to show off our snow … and how much had already melted by late afternoon?

Thanks, Chipeta. We appreciate your lovely cooperation!

Fascinating mix of snow on the ground and still on some tree branches while south-facing slopes have nearly all slurped up all that snowy-good moisture (despite the lack of sunshine most of the day). We got maybe an inch … 2 max. It was melting while it was falling. Eh. We’re desperate for ANY moisture. I think the temp hit 40F. … The forecasters claim this morning’s low temp will be 7 or thereabouts. Yeesh. But it’ll keep some of that snow on the ground and soaking in slowly, under another full-blue Colorado sky.