It was early morning December fourth.   The night before a small snowstorm had attacked Fort Collins.  The temperatures were dropping. An arctic cold front was coming in that would last for six days. I arrived downtown a little after five in the morning. The snow was still falling and when I got out of the car within minutes my feet were frozen.  At first the only human life one could see in this area of Fort Collins were the guys driving the snowplows.  I could see them look out at me from the warmth within their cabs.  I was walking around with the Nikon D800, a couple of lens and flash in my bag and my forty year old  tripod slung over my shoulder.  When the plow drivers looked at me I could tell by their expressions that they thought I was crazy to be up and and out in such a storm.  They were probably correct. The logic part of my brain said “Craig get back in that car, warm up and go …