la senora

la senora. the Taos mountain. I think of her as old, wise, sometimes generous & other times cranky. She is always watching over us. 

we had a date last night. we had happy hour margaritas at the Inn, then ate at the Guadalajara Grill. (my tacos con calabacitas were summer-y fresh & yummy). 

and I took this on our drive home. (we later discussed sometime having a date that involved being out after dark)

on Monday I'll have nine weeks of corporate life left. what will I become next?

rain wishes

a cooler evening than we've had lately. wishing the dark clouds would bring rain. 

the acequia is running low, too low to use for the garden. we're hoping it is just that someone has it diverted to a field somewhere, and that it will come back to us. a burbling creek out the back door feels like a luxury up here, but it is also very comforting to have. 

love & equality

coneflowers 

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
-Pablo Neruda


I'm lucky that if I were to marry my partner, we'd have no legal barriers in our way. I'm a woman who loves a man, so my country would be cool with us marrying. (though why we have to legally marry to prove to our government or our community that we're in a committed partnership, is a whole other topic) 

I have long felt the legal institution of marriage in this country is a farce, when it has only been allowed to certain people, and not to all people. But our country made steps today, towards changing that. By allowing Americans an equal right, under law, to marry who they love, despite their sexuality, the Supreme Court has given the institution of marriage new a level of dignity. (only 37 states to go!)

What a beautiful, simple thing.  And it came about in a culture that is evolving in its own way to accept this kind of change. Letting people spend their lives with who they love. 

Days like these make me think of my niece & nephew, and how wonderful it is, to think that as they come-of-age, they may be living in a country that will treat them equally, no matter who they love. It brought me to tears. 

instant pink

in the dry desert, a hot pink cholla bloom (choy-ya). a fragile flower on a pale green spiky cactus. 

the blooms don't last long but right now are decorating the desert.

first little, full & green

a happy june event, the first little tomatoes in our garden. 

also, getting full & green are the hollyhocks, zinnias, cosmos & morning glories outside the garden's deer fence. 

on many mornings, before the day really starts, we both wander out to the garden with coffee in hand, and do some weeding (tumbleweeds!). we can feel the sun already getting so warm and we chat a little. and admire the little garden we've grown. and I love those little moments, mostly because I can call it our garden, and no longer just, mine.  

lunch at the lake

we woke up early today so we could take a hike up to Williams Lake, which is at the foot of Wheeler Peak (the state's tallest peak). 

as we near the lake

the altitude (& my rather lazy past year) hits me and makes the first hour of our hikes feel brutal. I hit a moment when I'm dizzy, can't breathe, and decide I might rather turn around. though knowing that if I keep going, I'll be happier. so I do, & I get through it. my lungs open up, and my head gets clear. and suddenly, I'm enjoying the huge blue sky, the amazing trees, and the way walking up a mountain can make you feel so strong.

williams lake & the peak

we varied between shady, lush forested areas and sunny, rocky places. 

d and wheeler peak

about 2.5 miles up, we greeted the lake. found a sunny, grassy spot and ate the sandwiches & carrots which d had packed up for us.

sitting there, in this spot carved by a glacier, with snow in top view and cool breezes around, with the high old green mountains around us, d. pointed out that having this, and then something so opposite like the Gorge, all so nearby, is one of his reasons for loving New Mexico.

columbine

the mountain flowers are in bloom, in yellows & reds & whites, and berry patches were all over the place. and luckily, some "Colorado Blue" columbines also.

it was a beautiful way to enjoy one of our first days of summer.

sunset sky

we took a walk last night. up the road to the town church, and back. 

our neighbors all have peonies blooming in bright pink. at least four houses with the same pink. which tells me they have shared plants over the years.

the sun deeply set just as we turned up from the bottom of our road.

and the air was still, quiet & soft.

I made some changes this week. giving notice to a corporate job, with a new corporate structure, and with a old lack of consideration or fairness. maybe that goes without saying, corporate-wise. I'm making a new path, it may be busier, may have its own new stress, but it will feel like i'm doing it for me, and no longer for faceless, careless bottom-line. 

and rather than feeling overwhelmed, I'm feeling quite free. 

timber

our nice little house has one main heat source, a wood-burning stove. this will be an adjustment, sort of. I'm not a stranger to a winter kept warm by a stove. but it has been awhile...

and it means two things: no heating bill, and a lot of wood to cut before Fall gets cold.

(actually it means a third too, have lots of wool socks & long underwear)

this was something we are both okay with. we want to lower our bills, and live on less, and neither of us are bothered by the work it will take to stockpile the wood.

and it takes work to live on less. not just the physical, but the mental as well. i've had a good income from a job that gives me headaches and nausea, & paid me well to feel that way. i've been able to buy new clothes, new shoes, dinners out, salon haircuts, and well, just whatever "new" thing I've wanted without worry, for years. and soon, I'm going to give it up. and it will have its challenges. but I certain I'm going to be happier. 

we are making choices that help us live on less. and we are lucky this is our choice and not something we've been forced into. we are also lucky that we are both up for the challenge. 

lime-green on the desert sand

the prickly pear cactus are in bloom. 

they start with a pink bud and unfurl into a yellow or lime-green flower. 

and no matter how careful you are being as you walk around them, if you are wearing flip flops, you are bound to get a prickle jabbed into the side of your foot.  

friday

Lange portrait by Paul Taylor

Dorothea Lange took pictures of the people that needed to be seen.

She was born in May, 1895 in New Jersey.

In 1918, she moved to San Francisco & started working as a commercial photographer, but eventually began to record the people of the Japanese Internment camps, the poor of the South and migrant works in exodus from the Dust Bowl.

When she died in 1965, she left a collection of 25,000 negatives, which can be seen here at the Online Archive of California.

Destitute Pea Pickers. 32-yr old mother of seven. 1936.

Traveling Light. 1936. 

Country Store. 1939. 

The Road West, New Mexico. 1938. 

She even spent some time in New Mexico.

geraniums & aspens

geraniums & aspens

our backyard is lush compared to the desert mesa we drive by as we go into town.

tall aspens. green grass. and a bubbling creek nearby.

my geraniums are quite happy back there too.

little coop garden

our new landlord mentioned that the old chicken coop spot would probably be a good place for our garden.

d. dug it all up. we mixed in some compost & good soil. put in a tall fence to prevent the deer from snacking away our plants. the gate is an old one we found thrown behind the shed.

we dug deep furrows, so we can irrigate the bed by occasionally flooding it. we are allowed to pipe water out of the acequia that runs by the house.

the acequia looks like a stream but is in reality a ditch. dug long ago to pull off from the rio hondo, which brings melted snow down from the mountains. it starts running in the spring, and it lasts until the water runs out (we've been told into the fall). northern new mexico is a web of acequias, small to large. around here, if you are lucky this is how you can water your garden, fields or just your flowers. the word is spanish. the technique is pueblo.   

we'll be growing roma tomatoes & basil, for pizza sauce. cherry tomatoes for my summer salads. cilantro in case we feel like having fresh salsa. enough basil for pesto to freeze for winter months. bell peppers, green beans & cucumbers for summer snacks. we opted out of growing corn, as I had a man on the pueblo tell me that last year, with the bad drought, the hungry bears came down and raided the corn in everyone's fields. we decided not to risk finding a bear in the garden.

from here, we grow. and pray most of the growing is done before the acequia runs dry.

tomorrow's day in may

tomorrow is my birthday.
yesterday d bought me chocolates and took me to dinner.
both were delicious.

last year at this time I was going through a chosen upheaval. and finding my focal point since that move has been difficult.
for both me and the person closest to me.

even just in this last move, from a city house to a country one, my emotions battled themselves. i think the lesson is that change, even change that I choose and that is for good, throws me.

but this is just me. i'm not meant to move my focal point too often. i need stable footing or the rest of myself just goes kinda haywire.

in all of this, I've neglected this little blog, and my small audience of readers. I hope to remedy that and find myself back in this space again.

but tomorrow, I'll wake up with a new birthday. and my sweet boyfriend has a garden plot all dug & fenced & irrigated for me. so I get to plant our garden (tomatoes, peppers, cucumber, herbs & flowers). and that will be me, putting my hands in the ground, creating a place for roots, and finding more sure footing.

evening colors at home.

west window

we've moved.
now down to just a few boxes & some odds & ends. and all the books that need alphabetizing.
but the settling in has begun.

and our nights without street lights are very dark.
and we warm up the house with a fire in the evening.
and our western windows show us the most amazing sunsets.

may day

our new front yard 

busy with all the packing and all the anxiety around packing. and today we got to start moving in.
just 15 minutes away. but still, with all of our stuff.

at some point I get stressed out because something doesn't go in the right box. and I tell myself to breathe. because when it comes out of the box in the new place, it will be put away correctly.

by friday we'll be sleeping in the new house. by sunday we'll have locked up the old one for good.

friday

Danish artist Anna Ancher, a 19th century painter who painted the every day lives of the people around her.

Despite conventions, she continued to paint even after she married.

spring visit

just a few pics from this last weekend.
a visit from the folks.
and seeing some new things, as well as seeing them new through their eyes.

friday

the blanket weaver, by edward curtis

The Navaho-land blanket looms are in evidence everywhere. In the winter months they are set up in the hogans, but during the summer they are erected outdoors under an improvised shelter, or, as in this case, beneath a tree. The simplicity of the loom and its product are here clearly shown, pictured in the early morning light under a large cottonwood. (Description by Edward Curtis)

snowy april afternoon