The Still Season: Experiencing Winter in Abiquiu, New Mexico

Winter in Abiquiu, Northern New Mexico is truly something special, a season that invites you to slow down and pay attention. It is a time to experience the serenity of your surroundings, to take in the landscape, and to enjoy the peace that comes from walking, breathing, listening, and simply being.

Each day, I try to go for a walk. Often, I wear headphones, listening to favorite podcasts, music, or the news from the world beyond these hills. This winter, though, I have been leaving them at home, choosing instead to listen to what is already here. When you pay attention, you realize it is not as still as it once seemed.

Without the hum of distraction, the world reveals itself more fully. You begin to notice the endlessly busy little birds, the penetrating voice of the wind, and subtle movements that catch the corner of your eye. Ravens circle in pairs overhead, their dark silhouettes dancing as they play with one another while gliding effortlessly through the sky, while bald eagles move with purpose and precision, sometimes climbing rapidly, other times swooping down in sudden bursts to snatch a duck from the lake below before settling back into long, graceful glides. In these moments, the world seems to slow. The mind grows quiet, the heart rate softens, and the breath finds an easy, natural rhythm.

As winter settles in, wildlife moves from the mountains into the valleys. You begin to see more of them, partly because fewer people are around to frighten them away, and partly because it is warmer down here. A bobcat appears silently on the patio, sniffing the ground, rubbing against chairs, and seeming completely at home, as if it has always belonged there. Rabbits and hares dart through the fields, quick nervous flashes that blend into the muted earth, only their white tails standing out. Deer slip through the garden with noses low, searching for forgotten scraps, while coyotes announce themselves with wild echoing songs that carry through the cold air.

There is something especially magical about stepping outside early in the morning after a fresh snowfall. The world feels hushed, almost reverent. The ground tells stories through tracks and trails, the footprints of creatures that passed through the night. Identifying them becomes a quiet game. The air is crisp and clean, sharp enough to bite at your skin on especially cold mornings and awaken every sense at once. You pull your hat lower onto your head, tighten your coat, and wear your long johns, but you still head out, because it is special. Each breath feels deliberate, filling you with life and a deep appreciation for the beauty and the many small lives around you.

And if you are lucky enough to experience a full moon after fresh snow, the magic deepens. Moonlight spills across the land, illuminating the white blanket until it glows. The night feels bright and open, as if nothing is hidden at all, and for a moment, it seems you can see everything. Later, you might sit by the chimenea, meditating to the gentle crackle and earthy scent of the fire, wrapped in a warm blanket, sipping deep red wine or a hot cup of oolong tea. The stillness lingers. Eventually, you nestle into bed with a good book, let your imagination wander, and drift into sleep, only to wake to a colorful sunrise rising gently over the snowcapped mountains.