A Study of Chiles in Snowfall

 We stayed five nights total in Santa Fe, the four of us in two rooms side by side. The snow came in a glorious soft coatings over several nights, and at times in the day. The snow looked so beautiful coming down around the colorful chiles that were hung throughout the narrow interior courtyard of the hotel. I photographed and took videos of them in fascination. 

Over the course of our stay we made an aggressive effort to experience the core set of tourist attractions of Santa Fe, including the old churches (including the "miracle staircase"). It being Lent, and all four of to some degree being Christian pilgrims of varying denominations, we lingered long in the St. Francis cathedral and the nearby garden of the Stations of the Cross, although none of us were Catholic. 

We visited the state capitol as well, on a day in which the legislature was in session and the lobby was crowded with groups of young people who had shown up to advocate for some type of cause which I never learned. This is apparently how it works these days, with social media. 

Nor did we neglect the museums. I passed on the local art museum--it turned out to be underwhelming by report of Rande and Jessica, but made sure to explore the history museum which is located on the old plaza inside the ancient headquarters of the Spanish territorial governor. It was an excellent and well organized museum. 

One thing that struck me about the museum--and likewise the one in Albuquerque--was that it was not overly woke and laden with political hectoring by ideological crusading museum keepers, as has become the style over the last twenty years. The sections on the Spanish conquest were nuanced. The Spanish did "oppress" the Indians, but it was not a black-and-white issue in the exhibits. I knew this is because the heritage of the state of New Mexico includes wealthy and powerful white Spanish families going back to that time. They do not feel like they need to cast themselves as the bad guys, as do the non-Hispanic white elite of America, who are ready to throw themselves en masse into the sacrificial fire of historical oblivion over the sins of the ancestors (or other people's ancestors, if need be). 

In this way the historical museums of New Mexico may be among the finest still existing in the country, not yet overrun by these disgusting "neo-virtuous" trends of museum curation. They remind me of the old ways, down to the loving display of the history of Fred Harvey and his restaurants.

Nor did we neglect the galleries of contemporary art that line Canyon Road. Nor did we neglect the local bookstores--I unearthed a treasure on cosmic rays at the one across the street from the old Santa Fe depot.

Nor did we neglect the new cuisine, driving for lunch out into the snow-laded hills to dine at the restaurant japanese spa.  Japan and Santa Fe. In snow, they are perfect for each other.

It was impossible to capture the magic of the snowflakes as they swirled around the chiles in a still photograph. I had to settle for the slickness of the courtyard pavement to manifest their presence.