december

Dark nights come soon as the mountains hide the fading sunset light. Out here in our rural community, the only light comes from neighboring porches and the visible moon. At 5pm last night, already pitch night, we started down our driveway, and quickly noticed deer in our way. A few were in the drive, a few by the fence, and as we slowly drove down, in awe we noticed even more. Filling our pasture, were the silhouettes of the herd. Their long ears perked up, the antlers still, and their white tails shining in what little light was out. They all stopped to watch us, and we stopped to see them. Then we continued along our road to see even more. It was one of those magical moments, when you are reminded that we live among wild herds, and that the countryside we love living in, is home to creatures that wait until dark falls to come out. It felt like we were witnessing a secret of the night.

Our purpose for going into town was to visit the annual Lighting Ledoux celebration. Ledoux Street is home to galleries and museums, and on this night the glowing farolitos are set out and lit for the first time. Galleries stay open late, offering cider and cookies, and many light bonfires in their yards, so that people can stop, sit and chat by a fire. The smell of pinon burning, the flicker of the lights and the coldness of the fresh air. 

This is a  Taos tradition which I hadn't gotten to experience yet. Even though I'm still uncomfortable and need to sit, often, it was something I didn't want to miss this year. We had fun, stopping many times to chat with friends also walking the street.

Snow has been falling on the high peaks, but for us in the foothills, we've mostly had rain rather than snow. The rain brings out the brightness in the browns & golds. 

Recovery has gone well, though I've been frustrated many times. Overall though, I've improved and continue to do so. It feels like an accomplishment that I can mostly bend over and that I can walk around without feeling so fragile and unstable. 

I've noticed that my emotions on the tipping edge. Feeling like crying comes easily. This experience has changed the way I view what life is, and what life can be. And it has further cemented the closeness and love I have in my partner. I look at the foothills and mountains, and I have a desire to climb them. And my goal in the next year is to regain my strength, and more so. I want my body to feel strong with each step, not just for climbing mountains but for encountering life, living and the challenges in them. 

Outside the other day, I stood from our yard and watched a hawk fly over our end of the valley. He appeared to have a fun time, floating, lifting, swooping in the wind current. Occasionally crying out. The cry of the hawk is a lonely one, a screech that pierces the air, and echoes in the rocks. It is one of those sounds you hear in Westerns, in a scene of big land and possible danger. After the hawk dropped from the sky into a large cottonwood near the river, I ran to get the binoculars. I just wanted one sight of him and that magic ability to so effortlessly fly. But he was gone.

We took a trip to Santa Fe for our v-day. We visited several thrift stores and then had Indian food for lunch. There are many things you give up when living in a small, out-of-the-way place, and here one of those an Indian restaurant. So its a special occasion kind of thing. The day was D.'s idea, and a very good one at that.

In December when we had lots of snow, it gave us cautionary hope that the winter would prove to be a decent one and fight this drought. But it hasn't. Little snow. No rain. The air is dry, the ground comes up in waves of dust. The trees are dry. And now, too early, the Spring winds have begun. We can still only hope. Maybe a rainy or snowy March? Those who deny climate change are fools, fools who believe living in denial is easier than confronting the challenges ahead. This high desert has existed for eons, getting by on just enough rain & snow, not a lot, but just enough. And now centuries of growth is dying. 

Around here you see the occasional bumper sticker, or poster in the window, "El Agua es la Vida"... 

la nueva

A short walk on New Year's Eve

large herd of Elk, we were so excited we pulled over to take in the sight.

Silver Peak, in southern Colorado.

Ute Mountain a drive north of us

For the New Year, I baked some decadent chocolate cookies, which we took over to a party, along with a bag of potato chips. Under a clear, cold, starry sky, we joined friends by a bonfire, some of us with mugs of hot cider & whisky, others with bottles of beer. At the new year people said, "viva la nueva" and we passed around a bottle of champagne, each taking a celebratory swig, and watched as chinese lanterns rose brightly lit into the sky. And of course I had a kiss from my loving d.

Here we are in 2014. I thought about pulling some photos from the year, but instead here are a few from just this week.

I'm curious about 2014, am very okay with leaving 2013 in history. I keep telling myself to make a list, something resolute and hopeful, notes to guide my new year by. And may be I still will...I have lots of ideas to mull around.  My first step in starting the new year right is having signed up for a 6-wk photography course. I hope I'll finally grasp the science of f-stops and aperture, and maybe find some creative inspiration along the way. After that, I'll just keep looking for this la nueva.

the cold outside the warm within

we took a little walk around the farm on Christmas Eve. it was so cold the air was almost blue. the bitter wind blew, and occasionally we had to stop in a shed or the barn in shelter. the kids seemed unfazed. little A. wanted to make snowballs and follow rabbit tracks, while R. played with the old wagon wheel. the barn kittens hid from us (or, the wind) and I found Christmas colors among the old implements. we checked the frozen pond, looking for the fish that had frozen to the top. I managed to keep A. still long enough to get a shoe shot & per usual her colors were the brightest. we felt the air in our bones. inside we had cinnamon rolls and coffee to help us feel warm.
the kids performed in the Eve service. we sat in one of the oldest Mennonite churches in the Midwest, sang, and ended the night warmly with candles lit and thoughts above & within.

a few days in Kansas

mom's Christmas cactus in bloom

candles and a piece of Taos

we are home from Christmas, in which we visited our families in Kansas. we had mostly sunny drives, with only few patches of snowy roads. and the bitter winter wind that greeted us in Kansas disappeared into the sun by Christmas Day.

in a whirlwind we saw our parents, my brother's family and many of our good friends. we ate many cookies, cinnamon rolls, zwieback and we had a special Faspa. and overall it felt like a good holiday for both of us. 

and now comes the time of reflection. the end of the year, the start of another, and all the importance we place on this change in the cycle. I definitely need a list, of things to let go, of things to think about moving forward, of things I want from this new year. but I know the list doesn't need to be huge, there is nothing so large to tackle, mostly I just want to focus on my each new day and what comes, what may.

Taos & farolitos

Taos has a tradition of light. It is famous for the light of the sky (clear & bright) which has caused artists to come visit, & then just stay. It is also known for the glow of the farolitos around Christmas-time.

Taos Plaza

The farolitos (little-lantern or little-fire) are placed along sidewalks, on rooftops, line adobe walls and at front doors. Traditionally (from the 15th-century Spanish who settled here) they are meant to light the way for the Holy Family, helping guide them to a safe place. They are sign of welcome & celebration. And their warm, soft glow decorates the town.

Easy to make, a brown paper lunch-bag, a bottom covered in sand, with a votive plopped in the middle.  Currently, our grocery store has boxes of these "cathedral-style" votives on special display. 

Many people now choose to use the electric farolitos (plastic bags on a light string) and these are sometimes referred to as the fake-o-lito or electro-lito.

On the snowy, clear nights, with the smell of pinon & juniper burning from stoves & fireplaces all through Taos, the glowing farolitos combined with a twinkle of christmas lights, help create a festive atmosphere. 

Here in northern New Mexico, we call these farolitos, once you get south of Santa Fe, these are called luminarias. This may be explained as how once actual, small lanterns were used as farolitos, and when they were replaced with paper bags, most people began calling them luminarias. But northern New Mexicans are stubborn when it comes to change, in just about all aspects of life, so they keep using the word farolito. Though some like to mix it up, and just call them "bag-o-litos".

They are lovely. And mixed in with the traditions of eating posole on Christmas Eve, baking biscochitos and going to Taos Pueblo for Deer Dances on Christmas Day, the farolitos are another symbol of the deep & historic culture of Taos.

december starts

the opening seemed to go well, it was quite busy. i'm curious, but also not, as to what I've sold so far. 

I put out a few holiday decorations. Since cutting down a live tree isn't an option in this household,  we've instead put up a large Aspen branch, which we'd found fallen in the forest when cutting wood once. D. put it up for me, and I decorated...keeping it simple. enjoying the silver ornaments, red ribbon and the one blue peace dove. 

thinking about gifts, making & buying. thankful for the sunny days which help our house warm up. expecting snow again soon. looking for a job, and motivating/brainstorming what else I could do to give myself a job.

the mornings are hard. it is cold, and with our thermo-insulated curtains down, the bedroom is dark. Libby-the-cat paws at my face sometime after 6am, because she's ready for me to get out of bed. I think about how so many people are capable of doing this every day, so I get out of bed, put on my slippers and a sweater, and head to the living room. Then I have to decide, do I start the coffee or the fire first? And soon, after both of these things are taken care of, the sun starts to peek into the house. 

night of the dead, alan crane, 1958

light for the Fall

two nights in which to light our candles. as darkness falls tonight on All Saint's (All-Hallowmas) and tomorrow on All Soul's (Dia de los Muertos). people in cultures all over the world believe in lighting a candle, to help those spirits that wander find their way back home. it is a time that the living world and the fallen world mingles a little. as Fall is falling, this is the time the known and unknown dead are remembered & given light.

I feel there is power in belief. whether that belief is in centered in an organized religion, faith in humanity, or the spirit of the natural world. our living is connected by the ancestors that gave us life, or the ancient peoples who lived the land we now share. I don't actually know who is out there wandering, but I know there is a possibility something is.

so, I like to light the candles, for the spirits that might be around. for the spirits in my life. a little glow, a little flicker and maybe a little peace. maybe keeping night from full darkness. giving pause, giving thought.

earth waits a miracle--
Man too;
This is the day
All saints pass through

-Anne Morrow Lindbergh (excerpt from All Saints Day)

Samhain
(The Celtic Halloween)

-Annie Finch

In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung,
legend says there is a seam
stitching darkness like a name.

Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil

that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor

I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings

arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
"Carry me." She leaves this trail
through a shudder of the veil,
and leaves, like amber where she stays,
a gift for her perpetual gaze.

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

friday

a few favorite vintage valentine's cards. from here.

and the card I received yesterday. handmade by mi corazon bueno.