remembering this space

When I drove  to work this morning my view was of the dark, cloudy mountains with newly snowy peaks. It was lovely, but it tells us that winter is coming. Then it began to rain, and has just rained & rained all day. I got an email from a friend last week and she was reminding me that some people do pay attention to this blog, and were wondering where I was. 

I think that my work day drains me a little bit, and so I lose touch with this form of expression, and I think posting photos on instagram, expressing thoughts on Facebook, having also been distractions.

Today I came home to a dark house shrouded in heavy rain, expecting it to be cold. But I found that D. had started our first fire of the season, & our little house cozy in the wet.

At the end of the summer we drove up North, and visiting some mountaintop old mining cabins up on what is called Midnight Meadows. Up high, in the deep meadows, far from people and walking in wide meadows. It was beautiful and serene, and reminded you of what quiet is. 

We traveled home to Kansas for our annual trip to Winfield. And we had a long, relaxing time, with a lot of laughing,  many Wisconsin-style Brandy Old-Fashioneds, and time with our family & friends. The kids showed us they are all old enough not to need us much, they had afternoons of imagination and kite-flying. And since a lot of us brought our bikes, we were able to ride around together. Oh, and tick bites. Many of us also got bitten by ticks, which was new for the Winfield experience. 

This past weekend, in effort to tire out the puppy and get a little nature time before the cold sets in, we took a hike up Manzanita trail. We were discussing how much stronger I am than I used to be, and how much better I feel than in the months after my surgery. We had gotten up a couple miles, and then I slipped in a creek, and water gushed in over my shoes. And it was time to turn around. The aspen trees are turning yellow, the oak trees are turning golden and soon they will all fall to the ground. But Fall smells so lovely here. The pinon burning, the aroma of leaves as they crunch underfoot, the damp air settles into the pine & cedar trees. 

D. has a new best friend with Sasha. She can hike up a mountain for miles without being tired, and the whole time be simply joyful as she runs & sniffs & explores & splashes in the cold streams. 

october

I'm am at the point of posting monthly now. Amazing what working full-time away from home can do to your blogging. Writing about work isn't any fun, so it all comes down to weekends. And sometimes weekends are just washing dishes and baking bread. Though lately I've been cooking up tomato sauce too. And in preparation for surgery I'm having in two weeks, I've been baking up pasta and fixing up burritos for the freezer. Somehow it makes me feel less anxious if I know there will be food I made for D. to eat during my recovery.

The garden faded in a lovely way, and it became a home for the rabbits (safe from the coyotes). The aspens turned gold in a week, and now are beginning to lose their leaves. Fall in northern NM means seeing golden patches on the mountains appear and disappear, bushes of chamisa turn bright yellow, the smell of pinon burning, mornings hazy over the valley from woodstove smoke, deer tracks in the yard and truck beds either piled high in wood or showing the tops of antlers, a tell-tale sign of a recent hunt. 

In late September was the Taos Fall Arts Festival, this time including the idea of a friend of ours, incorporating street art & performance. Called The Paseo (for the street it lined) it was a long walk of different street art, from huge mechnical robots and displays to adobe walls lit up in papercut projections. We were lucky enough to get our tintype photo taken by one of the visiting artists. Though it took forever, since the plate had to be exposed and processed one at a time, we love that we held out. 

It also means sunny, warm days and crisp, freezing nights. The pleasantness of the weather here.

A few weekends ago we started out on a drive to see fall colors, with a walk in mind. We drove through little Truchas, where I found some awesome roadside graffiti. But we ended up heading south to Chimayo, to visit El Santuario.  A site of pilgrimage, famous for the healing dirt upon which it is built. It was a spiritual place of healing for the native populations before the Catholic populations began living here & built a chapel. Now the courtyard is covered in altars of rosaries, candles and homemade crosses. And as we visited the simple adobe chapel full of believers. People praying in spanish, and people weeping at the altar. A moving place, you can feel the belief, the hope, the sorrow, the relief and the ancient ways. We brought home a little wooden replica of the chapel, and in it we filled with some of the healing dirt. This is a part of what you do when you live in New Mexico.

september

We've reached that time of year, time to prepare for winter. The cat hunted/caught two mice, we are collecting newspapers, calculating how much wood we need to cut & burn. It is soon time to fill the propane, clean the chimney and start wearing slippers again.

We spent the last week camping near the Walnut river, in Kansas. Our annual time to see & spend time with many people we simply love to be nearby. 

Picking the flowers which are slowly fading and will soon freeze. 

Warm temperatures alluded my tomatoes this year. Picked my first big batch today, and made some sauce. Quite a change from last year's bounty. But since we still have sauce from last year in the freezer, we didn't really need as much. 

The Statice I grew has come out in blues, pinks and purples. I've been cutting it & hanging to dry on the back porch. Thinking it will be welcome color in the winter depths. 

Working full-time in town has been rewarding, but a new perspective for me. Suddenly my time is no longer mine, it belongs to work. And I'm not sure I'll ever be convinced that is really how I want to live. Am glad the job I have now is one I feel good about. 

red glowing Fall

now in the Fall, the mountains take on a red glow at sunset. it lasts about five minutes. it can take your breath away, the sweep of red, pink & orange that suddenly floods the sky, and then quickly disappears back into autumn browns. it is assumed this is why the Spanish named these the "Sangre de Cristo" (blood of Christ).  it is a southern range of the Rockies, and contains such names as the Crestones, the Spanish Peaks, Culebra, Costillo, Baldy, the Taos Mountain, Picuris and la Jicarita (Jicarita is the most fun to roll off the tongue).

I took these from back of the house. I jumped over the still-running acequia (we are curious as to when it will stop), and into our neighbor's pasture, stood there with fingers growing cold, as the colors hit the range.

On Monday I drop off a tub of my bags and the setup up for the TaosFolk show begins. I spent the past few days putting on tags and leather & silver zipper pulls. Today I'll be sewing more, I've decided to create a new size. It makes sense to come up with a new pattern days before a deadline, really.

la cebolla

friday we were on the Cebolla Mesa (the Onion Table). it is park-land north of us, and it borders the Rio Grande, complete with a deep canyon drop. as you drive in, a sign warns you that the roads aren't safe for passenger cars. our last visit was a year ago, for d.'s birthday picnic. this time we were there to find firewood. 

we drove around bumpy, sort-of-roads. one that had such a narrow, steep decline that we actually had to back down rather than attempt to drive on forward. 

the beauty of this place is that it is open & isolated. trees, dirt, & mountains all around. this mesa is mostly pinon & sagebrush, with some amazing ponderosas & firs filling out the skyline. this is the flat New Mexico, a large, wide table of land with narrow arroyos that drop everywhere & suddenly. quiet but for the trees and the ravens & hawks overhead. you feel alone out there. you are alone out there. 

we have permits to cut firewood. but the law is that we cut the dead wood, the already fallen trees. this is one way the forest service can keep the land safer from fire. unfortunately, many folks go out and poach live trees. large trees with a lot of wood.

and it is sad & disheartening. from once tall ponderosas, pine & spruce. we come upon piles of cut limbs, trails of fresh sawdust and still-wet bark. the big tree is just a paycheck. cutting them alive is the easy way out, the lazy way. 

though we go together, d's time is spent with the chainsaw. my job is to find trees to cut, and then carry what's cut to the truck. so I find myself with alone time. I walk around and look for rocks, bones or (hopefully) arrowheads. I try to identify the trees. I count all the signs of animals I can find. I usually find rusty, old beer cans. 

the top of the canyon peaks out in the land's edge. and then beyond the Rio Grande gorge, over on the other side, are some of the old volcanoes that helped shape this enormous & dramatic tierra. being in the presence of this place, like so much of New Mexico, reminds me of just how powerful nature is. 

we headed home as the clouds were getting thick & dark over the mountains. by the time we unloaded wood at the house, a cold rain was falling. 

watching, feeling fall

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

-Emily Dickinson

Found the prickly pears shining in purple after the last rain.

This poem inspired me to realize that my recent desire for a lovely red (&blue or purple or yellow or orange) plaid wool scarf is just my need to counteract the fading color all around me.

...Also, one disadvantage to heating a house by wood stove is burning your finger, while still groggy early in the morning, by touching the inside of the stove when trying to perfectly place in a new a log.

Last night we ate chicken/red chile sauce tacos. And I baked this applesauce cake, which is delicious (earthy, light & spicy), even without the caramel glaze (I just did a simple sugar glaze, poured all over the cake while still warm).

visitas

two of our favorite people came to visit from Kansas. they were excited to see our home, the land and the town. we did a lot of laughing, played some cards, took our backyard hike, went to some of our favorite places.  and all around enjoyed having them visit. the laughter of friends is good for the soul. 

less than two weeks until the art show. I feel like I have a lot done, but that I still have much to do. 

finding this or that

so much of what I write here, and what I think about when not here, is about what to be doing. am ever wondering if I missed my signal, or the moment, or made the wrong or right decision. but I know this is part of what living is, and that many of us wander focused or not. looking for answers, and then questioning what those answers are.

then sometimes I stop myself, and remind myself that though the future should be considered, it is actually the present that needs to be minded/enjoyed/experienced. 

this weekend we are being visited by two good souls from Kansas. and they'll pretty much keep my mind on only the fun & adventure of being together for these next few days. 

and then next week I can get back to questioning my steps for this future path.

november outside

the other morning, as the light was getting slowly brighter, I noticed from my windows how amazing the colors were outside in the still early light. the long, night rain had washed everything dark & bright. these are the colors of young november in northern new mexico.