Day 54: I see it a lot on Facebook: "#ilovemyjob." Okay, it's usually my supervisor and good friend Kevin who hashtags photos from work like that, but y'know, it couldn't be truer for either of us. Sure, there are those days when the database is acting up or the computer won't recognize my security card, days when everything we need seems to have gone missing out of the storeroom, times when we get a run of applicants hoping to stay on unemployment by telling us they want to be a campground host but that they can only work three hours per week. There are Headbanger Days and Swearword Days and I-Wish-I'd-Stayed-Home Days, but even when the going gets rough, all we have to do is step outside for a few minutes to be reminded of how good we have it.
So here we are: the summer seasonals are gone, the winter seasonals haven't arrived. The first good snow of the year has fallen, and Longmire is silent as a tomb, deliciously. You can almost hear the trees breathing, and Raven's coarse quork precipitates a fall of snowy pancakes which beat muffled thuds on the frozen drum of the ground. But for a hint of Park-Service brown on milled wood and the shameless boldness of a fire hydrant, the landscape could have been captured in black and white with nothing lost in translation. It is a restful view, one which demands no more effort from the eye than it is willing to give; take it all in at a glance, or take in the subtleties of hue and form. It's up to you. Me? #ilovemyjob.
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