Even after a decade of living here, winter in the desert is odd. In some ways it feels like winter: the days are shorter, the shadows longer, the air crisper.
But in other regards, it's completely foreign. No snow. No frost. No visible breath or sidewalks to shovel or slush in my shoes or fire in the fireplace. It's winter but it isn't. Around here, the cotton fields are as close to snow as we get.