Winter wonderland here in my part of New Jersey. They say it's about thirty inches of snow, but shoveling the walk (it was taking too long so I hired some passing guys to finish it) in front of the house my apartment's in, it was over three feet there. And a lot of drifting to four feet or more.
I don't own a camera and haven't for most of my life. I love the photos of others and they often capture a lot in nature and city life I dig (see EAST OF WEST L.A. or KINDSIGHT or MY EYE AND I et. al.) but I never could.
My feeling, as I was saying to my friend Jamie today when she called from Malibu to check up on the weather here and its impact, that taking a photo of the way the world turned perfectly purely white overnight and trees and cars and walls and other objects became surreal swirls of shapes blown into unique forms by the wind gusts (some of which were over fifty miles per), trying to capture that in a photo would be like getting a photo of an art installation instead of walking into the gallery or museum and being immersed in the artist's vision of a total environment and not just a single object, etc.
I'm on my way out with my older son to catch my grandson and young son snowboarding on the hill in our local park before it gets dark. I couldn't be happier. To experience these seasonal pleasures is one of the reasons I moved back to Jersey from L.A. Another thing to be grateful for.