Snow falls at high altitudes

Wearing borrowed boots, I cautiously braved the cliffs of the Grand Canyon, past the official trail and onto a few frightening ledges. I asked Aaron not to follow, as he himself had no boots to keep him from slipping to a glorious and fatal demise. (What visitor hasn't pondered an amazing death from the heights to the depths of it's peaks and crevices?) It wasn't enough to see the views. I wanted to fly around each corner and down into every crack. It begs one to ask, what is better, seeing it in person from one solitary space or watching the Imax movie and flying through the entire Canyon?
It was cold and windy, and we left in a hurry, trying to make it to the Hoover Dam before the sun fell too low and hid our view. Aaron says he drove over the Dam once before, but it was night time and he didn't even realize where he was until his car crossed over. Closing in and losing light quickly, I passed a sign that stated trucks and trailers could not drive over the Dam and would have to take a detour. After talking it over with a gas station security guard, we decided the long detour wasn't worth it, and our trip to Vegas would have to wait. The money saved could go towards a day trip with the kids up to the mountains to see snow. We drove on and were it our new home around midnight. With no electricity, we took Adam up on his offer to crash in his bed, enjoying our first night in Los Angeles, as well as our first morning void of the usual small child alarm clock, stroking my face asking, "Mommy, is it time to wake up?".