“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.”

~Paul Theroux

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True bitter cold has arrived in Kansas. It was bound to happen eventually, and mother nature appears to be making up for lost time. It is a surreal scene, to look out the window and see green lawns in the neighborhood and sunlight punching through the clouds; it almost looks pleasant. It is far from forgiving outdoors. It is downright freezing. It’s days like this thst remind me why I moved so far away, all those years ago. I would trade a desert for the Midwestern Winters without a second thought, and without regrets.

The cold weather front that delivered this icy change was a little further West a few days ago. The storm brought some of the only snow Southern Arizona has seen in almost three years. My news-feed has been flooded with beautiful photographs of the snow-covered Mule Mountains. My heart aches, to think that I’m not there to take-in those panoramas with my own two eyes. I am, at the very least, thankful that I live in an age where I can see everybody else’s happiness, even if from a distance. And, knowing that there’s little utility in dwelling on it, I decided to look back to some photographs I made those three years ago, when I actually was there.

Bisbee is a beautiful and well-kept secret along the Mexican border. It’s a wholly unique town that arose from a copper mining camp that fueled the local economy until the mining operation shut down. Low rents attracted artists and vagabonds – and other…unpredictable types – and the character of the town transformed from saloons and whorehouses and mining to just saloons and whore houses – and one hell of an arts and music scene.

After the weight of the snow, the slippery steps and fallen tree limbs, I hope that the handful of people I know and love out there are enjoying the view just a little bit extra, for me.

VIEW THE EXTENDED GALLERY HERE

If you are interested in prints of any of the images, please contact me via Facebook messenger. Thank you.