Winter — Monument Valley

PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOSEF MUENCH The storm came in over the mountains from the north, over the high Rockies of Utah, over the Wasatches, the Uintas, and the dreamy Henrys. It covered the mountain peaks with deep snow as it moved southward, pushed by the wind, toward Monument Valley, the desert plateau of golden sand and red cliffs on the Arizona-Utah border. The dark sky turned to gray in the afternoon. The wind that had hurled sand against the hogans of the Navajos all day long died down. Then the snow began to fall silently in the night. The darkness of the night that closed in over Monument Valley was broken only by the cheery light that came from windows in the trading post. Those lights went out, then there was darkness and the snow falling in the night. The isolated hogans of the Navajos were black, conical shapes in the night, the only sign of life within being the faint glow from the fires showing through the smoke holes.

Daybreak came crisp, clear, cold. The storm had spent itself in the night, or gone thumping off like Thor to other places, taking the wind with it. Snow covered the valley floor, hiding the golden sand that wore the marks of the wind. The monuments were dressed in mantles of snow, which accentuated the color in the steep walls, making them look like debonair patriarchs wearing