I spent a few hours on a recent snowy day in the Colorado National Monument as snow poured and clouds shrouded, then revealed, then shrouded again the park’s sandstone formations. At one point, the snow was so heavy and the fog so thick that I sought shelter under a large pinyon, where I was entranced by that softest of sounds, the absorbing silence of falling snow. I watched as little hexagons landed on my jacket, melted, and evaporated, returning to the atmosphere. I wondered, what will become of those atoms? Perhaps they fall again as rain on grapevines in Palisade. Maybe their fate is to be photosynthesized with my exhaled carbon dioxide to glucose, molecules of which find their way into a grape that is harvested, pressed, aged, where the glucose becomes ethanol. The atoms return to me, this time as part of a full-bodied cabernet that I enjoy with dinner. They become me but only for a little while. Photo © copyright by Greg Owens.