Driving out to New Mexico in the middle of December is a set of visual rituals: leaving LA's sunshine and palm trees (actually, it was drizzling, and the city/landscape was mist-covered) and slightly incongruous over-the-top swathes of holiday lights; seeing the landscape get more and more wintery; the first sight of snow (on north facing woody roadsides just before Flagstaff, usually); Flagstaff mountain itself, snow-topped like a Japanese print; and then La Posada, in Winslow, with its trees strung with lights, and its Christmas decorations (including the model train set at the entrance to the dining room - totally appropriate in an old railway hotel). It's usually much colder than tonight - the cats start sparking when you stroke them (this must be the effects of that allegedly non-existent global warming), but not having to worry about ice and snow on the road, this time, was a great relief.
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