Dawn Berkoski

Leaving Bisbee, I decided to take the scenic route towards Vail, driving along the Sonoita Mountain View Highway. Little did I know, it would begin to snow.

I’d driven through snowstorms before, but in the quiet of the desert, driving an unfamiliar car, with no one around for miles, and no phone reception, my knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The temperature dropped, I watched the numbers free fall on my dashboard, and I fumbled for the heater and defrost as I carefully drove past the mountains.

It was incredibly beautiful, the sky crying tears on the sands, a rusted marker for some far-off ranch, and yet I was fully aware how a slight slide off the road could land me in a spiky cactus, possibly pop my tires, and leave me stranded.

By the time I pulled into Colossal Cave Mountain Park, the snow had stopped. But a winter wonderland remained, swiftly fading in the rising sun. I wished my mother could see it. And maybe she could. Maybe she was with me, keeping me safe on this road trip we had planned together but that she couldn’t make.

And thinking of her, how beautiful and generous she was, her determination and ever shining spirit, how she loved flowers and plants of any variety, I felt a connection while wandering the trails leading towards the caves. It was as if I was being pulled to explore every corner of this glorious winter garden and turn over every new leaf.

I was determined to capture the snow before it left me too.

But I couldn’t stay in paradise forever. The depths of Colossal Cave called my name. So, I lined up with the other members of the tour before the barred gate, ready to descend into the dark once more.

Dawn B~