What a wonderful rule! One that allows the beauty of winter, while banning the beast! Whoever heard of such a thing!? I'm here to tell you, folks, for those of you from the Valley of the Sun who have never spent a Winter's day in the Rim Country, you don't know what you're missing! Particularly you Snowbirds who have nightmares of Des Moines any time the temperature drops below 70° in February. This is truly a mystical kind of winter weather pattern, different from any other that I've ever seen, and one that simply must be experienced to be believed.

On one of our first trips to Payson, my wife and I drove up into a small subdivision in the foothills northwest of town. It was one of those exquisite days in late April and you could see forever. We parked on a quiet street that traversed a gentle, north-facing hillside, and walked tentatively between two of the well-kept homes on the downslope side. We just stood there for a while, imagining... properly awed by the unobstructed panorama that was the Mogollon Rim.

After a few minutes, a man who lived in one of the homes noticed us and came out to introduce himself. After learning that we were hoping to relocate to a mountain community because of the four seasons, he cordially invited us into his beautiful home, introduced us to his lovely wife, and flatly assured us that we needed to look no further.

Out back on the deck, with the jovial authority of a person who had been around plenty long enough to know, he immodestly informed us that Spring, Summer and Fall in the Rim Country were virtually unparalleled anywhere else in the Southwest. These three distinctly different seasons, he told us, were responsible for attracting large numbers of tourists to the region every year. "Now, tourism is one thing," he said, as he looked northward, out toward the Rim, "but, it's actually the Winter season that convinces folks they want to live here."

The curious expressions on our faces undoubtedly encouraged him to continue. "Those three months of the year, you can sit right here on this deck and watch as storms gather up there on the Rim. About once a month," he said, "the wind picks up out of the northwest, and pushes one out over the edge. You can see it coming, so you pick up, go inside, light the fire, and watch as it spills over and creeps down toward the town."

"The next day," he concluded with a smile and a wide wave of his arms, "the sun comes out again, melts off all the streets and driveways, and we're right back out here watching as the snowline recedes back up to the top."

As we drove back toward the city late that afternoon, my wife and I admitted that we were both more than a little intrigued by the man's story, and agreed, at least, that if he wasn't, he should be in charge of Public Relations at the local Chamber of Commerce. We also agreed that we would come back the following weekend and continue our evaluation of Payson as a possibility.

That was almost a year ago. We became full-time residents that May. So far this winter, it has snowed four times, each with less than an inch of accumulation. Within a day or so after each of those storms, the temperature on our porch has topped 50°. The only time I even touched the snow shovel was to find a place for it further back in the shed. And, watching the rise and fall of the snowline on the face of the Rim gives you the feeling that, if you were to do this long enough, and kept good enough notes, you just might get to the point where you could start predicting stuff!

It seems that the only thing we were completely wrong about was that the man up on the hill never worked for the Chamber of Commerce. As it turned out, he was too busy doing one heck of a job as a Town Councilman!

PS: Let us share with you some of the beauty of the area... take a cyber-stroll thru any one of our four Galleries in the RIMages section of the site. Click the button and enjoy!