Spring in Santa Fe (if judged by the appearance of crocuses) arrives just ahead of Boston, even though its latitude is over 500 miles farther south. The city (capital of New Mexico, population around 70,000) is 7,000 feet above sea level, and thus 7,000 feet higher than Boston. It's also much drier; the humidity wasn't much above 10%, and that combined with winds gusting into the 50mph range made for fire hazards in many areas.
The weather in early March in the high desert can reach the 60s(F) during the day, and down into the low 30s at night. The week before I came it was warm and sunny, but turned rather chilly and windy during my visit (it was quite the fun-house ride flying in over the Sandia Mountains into Albuquerque on Thursday!), with a fair amount of clouds. The clouds were often spectacular, though. I'm not sure my photographs do them justice.
Saturday morning, I woke at 6am to the sound of thunder and something pelting the building. I looked out to see hail bouncing off the porch railing, from mostly pea-sized to a few grape-sized pellets. It all melted within a couple of hours and was sunny and beautiful, in the 50s, the rest of the day. Monday morning, the day I left Santa Fe, I woke to falling snow. At the airport later that morning, the security agent looked at my itinerary - connecting through Chicago to Boston, where it was also snowing - and shook his head at me. "In the winter months, you go to Puerto Vallarta, ma'am."
I didn't mind the chill, or the snow, which was pretty and melted quickly on the ground. The days held plenty of sunshine for me, and it was far far away from work and stress. I had art and nature to nourish the eye, incredibly delicious food to nourish the body, and friends to nourish the soul.