Letter to Home.

The Furnace Creek Inn has a pair of outdoor fireplaces beside its spring-fed swimming pool, and they are lighted every evening at sunset. After dinner, on a cold December night, it was a treat to go down there and throw a few logs on one of those fires. I sat and basked in the radiance and warmth, the smell of the pinyon pine logs like incense. Above, a gray plume of smoke streamed from the stone chimney and traced across the starry black sky. While looking through the day’s photos on my camera, I started messing with the self-timer, and set up a self-portrait beside the fire—laughing at the very idea. A Christmas card from Death Valley. Love, Neil.