garden bouquets

Enjoying all the bouquets from the garden. Happy zinnias & cosmos. 

today

today. picked (& ate) our garden's first tomato. picked a bunch of red, pink, orange zinnias.

prepared and waited for our guests to arrive. (the little ones are coming!)

a dip in el rio

our best nearby place for a swim is the Rio Grande. 

beginning somewhere in southern Colorado, the Rio Grande winds its way down through New Mexico, and then becomes part of the Texas/Mexico border. (in Mexico its name changes to the Rio Bravo.)

yesterday to beat the heat, and enjoy a few lazy hours with friends, we packed up cold drinks, hats, sunscreen and river shoes, and took a dirt road to El Rio. after a little walk on the trail we found a good shore-spot to throw a blanket. we weren't alone. all along the river walked parents carrying coolers and kids holding brightly colored rafts. some people also carried fishing poles, others with a beer in hand. from up & down the river you could hear laughing, splashing & music playing. 

the river, a dark green, is slow & low right now (due to drought). and wide enough that you can't quite see the faces of the people on the other side. the rocky canyon towering over us all.

for a few hours we enjoyed the hot sun & the cold water. leaving as the afternoon clouds were building up for the day's rain. 

rainy season

before New Mexico weather became a part of my life, i thought monsoons were only something that hit India.

but we have our own North American version. also known as the Mexican monsoon, here in northeastern New Mexico we go from a parched earth June to a very rainy July. starting in southern Mexico, the winds take a shift in direction and the dry heat-beaten desert air begins to meld with the moist air from the Pacific. (though also, if the Plains have a rainy Spring, it also contributes to the monsoons. --so, a rainy spring in my Kansas means a rainy summer in my New Mexico.)

as the monsoons come, the wild forest fire threat that had loomed over us all of spring, is relieved. and the desert southwest gets most of its rain for the whole year. feeding the trees, the cacti, the fields and the wells.

as a Kansan, I know the power of a thunderstorm. the force of tornado winds and the feel of a drenching rain. but those storms usually come with dark, rolling clouds & a feeling of electricity in the air. the power is in the wind & the clouds.

the power here is in the rain. in the afternoon, the clouds build up fast. but never very dark, instead grey, blue and white clouds all of a sudden pile on top of us. a big wind comes, blowing up the desert into a wall of dust, making our doors & windows creak, and then a downpour hits. washing away all the desert dust in a swoosh. arroyos, huge mountain ditches that are bone dry most of the year, become rushing creeks from flash flooding.

and then it is gone. leaving the ground wet and the air cool enough to put a jacket on.

misty mountains

so much rain fell yesterday & night (the kind that drops full force & windy) this morning I woke to a coveted moment in New Mexico. -- wet, misty, foggy, muggy & muddy. the tree branches hanging low with heavy moisture.

I read somewhere that New Mexico gets 75% of its rainfall in these few weeks of monsoon rains.

strolled out to the garden with my cup of coffee. a bit too chilly almost for just a t-shirt. and wet, wet greens & browns & puddles, feeling like Kansas after a summer thunderstorm.

the mountains have scattered fog hanging over them. wispy lost trails of moisture.

the roosters & the ravens are crowing all over the valley. and it seems like something was moving around in the tall grass near the property fence. (I haven't seen a snake yet up here, I'm not excited too)

tall tomatoes, blooming cucumber, bushy beans & basil!

it is a Monday morning. and soon I'll turn on the work computer, and do my corporate job. but my 15 minutes outside, alone, listening to all the morning sounds, checking on the garden (muddy & thoroughly watered) and getting my feet wet & cold, has made for a lovely start to the week.

pretty & quiet

the pansies are losing their luster. 

blooming less, stems turning slightly yellow. 

they are telling me it is already the middle of summertime.

I clipped my huge pot of pansies, cutting back the stragglers. and I was throwing them on the ground, when d. stopped me, and reminded me that they are pretty too. so in some water the bunch went.

a busy social, day today. yard sales this morning with a friend, afternoon bbq & yard games at another friend's, and this evening helping at the theatre with concessions. a different kind of day for me.

I have always had a tug-of-war with my desire to be quiet, and around quiet, and the idea I'm too quiet. growing up my mother said it was fine to be "anti-social", while my dad said I needed to get out and smile more. they were both, in their different ways, encouraging me to do what they thought was best.

I think as I've gotten older, I've figured out my balance. and I do the things I enjoy with the people I like to be around. (people I find it easy to smile with) I accept invitations when they are important to the person inviting me. but I've (mostly) stopped doing social activities out of guilt or obligation. 

I visited a healing, comforting curandera last Fall. and she thought it is just in my personal being...I'm simply quiet on the inside, and therefore, I seek the quiet places outside too.

friday

Published in 1954, Maurice Sendak & Ruth Krauss collaborated on this little book about friendship.  More illustrations and history of the book can be found here at BrainPickings.

The two pages I thought made for a happy start on this Friday.

Glories

Goodmorning, morning glories

seco fourth

packed up a little lunch. with some cherry pie I'd baked the night before. and a jug of tequila pink lemonade. and we headed over to our neighboring village of Arroyo Seco. 

their 4th of July parade is quite famous around these parts. Seco has one, short, curvy road through town, and sits at the foot of the Sangre de Cristos. and is a community with mixed traditions from its centuries-old hispanic roots and its more recent anglo residents.

it was a fun & festive little parade.
and we ate our lunch, in a lucky shady spot.

I like to celebrate that we have this country to live in & make better each year. our progress often feels too slow, and we suffer many setbacks. but we have these basic freedoms that allow us to speak what it is we believe & gather & worship. the ideals of this country (& its people who keep the debates going) are worth a parade.


"we light the oven so that everyone may bake bread in it"
      - jose marti

up high

way up high over the mesa, down the valley below. each morning the hot air balloons fly as the sun rises. we see them from our house.

and an advantage to living out in the country, is that you can run outside with unbrushed hair, in pajamas and your boyfriend's shoes, with your camera in hopes of catching a picture.

morning starting july

it rained for a long time last night. a soaking rain from the dark sky.

the garden, the desert & the trees all seem fresh & happy this morning. the dirt & grass, more brown & more green in their wetness.

my cup of coffee often ends up on the garden fence post, as my hands inevitably end up weeding & tending. this morning I talked to the beans & the cucumber, as I helped them wind into their trellis. coaxing them towards support & success.

the green beans have a few blossoms.  the cucumber has sent out vines, seeking places to go. 

and our first sunflower has unfurled. (the seeds were a going-away present from kansas)

& having such happy morning glories makes me, well, happy. they will eventually cover this fence, in a wall of green & purple.

flying high in the sky, was a hot air balloon. we see them most mornings, out there over the mesa. I think of the people getting a view of the land, in way I haven't seen it. and then I think of them, as missing out on the view of the land, as I do see it.

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.