More than half a million people live within driving distance of the Sandia Mountains here in New Mexico. On Thursday night, just four of them - OK, four of us - went cross country skiing there. Under the light of a full moon (yes, Maggie, Bill and Curtis, the word 'lunatic' does come to mind) we strapped on skis and made our way for a mile along a fire road to a frigid, windswept peak. Clouds drifted across the night sky. Fine, dry snow drifted across the trail. Pines and pinons cast shadows, crisp and sharp while the moon rode high, a dreamy blur when it vanished. Just before midnight, we climbed a final rise and there it was: to the left us, the modest sprinkle of lights that is Santa Fe. To the right, Albuquerque, glowing like phosphorescence on the mesa. It was very cold, a little scary and utterly spectacular. A perfect birthday.
(Photo: Sandia Mountains as seen from Cedar Crest)