january warm light

"the real and proper question is: why is it beautiful?"
-annie dillard

a little january sunshine in the kitchen window.
we had faspa on sunday. and it was a nice reminder of the friends & community we have here. and I'll think we'll have another.

we're still snacking on the peppernuts. and the zwiebach lasted until yesterday. 

my sweet little niece called to invite me to her birthday party. which may be at the zoo. and I told her of course, while thinking to myself of how much more difficult it will be than last year. and a reality of, I may not be able too. and I'm trying to balance out what my life here is compared to what my life is there. 

i keep thinking that i'll have a moment of inspiration. that my desire to create things will find its key.  as if all of my interests will finally have a combined a-ha moment, and i'll have my quest in mind.

thank goodness for sunny days in wintertime.

friday

girls and flock of goats, 1910

view of the konza prairie, kansas 1975

snowy prospect park, brooklyn, 1887

street in stockholm, 1922

the winter comes, by edward curtis, 1908

winter farm in norway, 1910

winter photos from the past.

(all photos found on the Flickr:Commons, click on photo for link)

snowy views

from a snowy drive & a snowy walk.

as we look for a new place to live we learn what is most important to us and what we call home. for him, privacy & trees and for me, sunshine-y windows.

the peppernuts have been baked, and await our sunday afternoon gathering. the high altitude adjustment was some extra butter & extra molasses. (apparently in the way-back-when, women would bake these, store them in ceramic crocks and put them in the fruit cellar until needed. so I feel like being stored in a tupperware for a few days is okay, while also not nearly as interesting).

the next day, the kitchen still smelled of the aniseclovescinnamonginger&molasses.

sunday note

a view after dinner friday night.
our week ended with a few nights with d's folks, warm times in the bitter cold.

this morning a drive out to the trees & foothills, so see a maybe-place-to-rent. a cute place in the quiet country, but we have some questions yet before our hopes get too high & our rent goes up.

rolling out some peppernut/pfeffernusse dough, and it crumbled all to pieces. casualty of the dry high air. so now to try and make another batch.

this winter has given me a true appreciation of long underwear and wooly socks & sweaters.

in a week we'll be hosting a Faspa for friends.

friday/viernes

view of a valley pasture down the road. what you can't see are the small black figures of the cows, who were mooing in the whiteout of snow.


vacas en la nieve

snowy eve

the view of our street on a very snowy new year's eve. 

we put on our snow clothes, me in his snow pants which were stylishly baggy.  and took an early afternoon walk. 

and then later, after warming up at home, decided to make our eve a walking one. and headed first, through the happy christmas plaza to some dinner.

a dinner of burgers & fries, with beer. in a cozy little brewery. and then a walk to a bar for a cocktail or two.

and our night ended early, nicely at home. with a movie that made us laugh. and then I fell asleep before the neighborhood fireworks at midnight, which d. said was quite noisy & impressive.

and now it is our new year. I hope that is more of a year of continuing transition & growth, and less of last year's big changes.

snowballs & biscochitos

taos mountain with a snowy top

 a little walk at sunset park. with our snow boots on.

he'd hinted at the possibility of needing good waterproof gloves. in case of snowballs.

and so we laughed a lot. which was the best part. but we also threw a lot of snowballs at each other. and then we stopped for some coffee, with a short sit at the coffee shop enjoying the hot coffee in our hands and cold air on our faces.

also, a side note. we've been enjoying the *biscochitos* our landlady, senora santistevan, gifted to us. i'd read about them, and hoped to try them. and now when I attempt to make them, I know what they are supposed to taste like.

christmas journey

our drive to kansas started before the sunrise. so as we drove north, we watched as the sky over the mountains glowed in pinks.

 

and on our drive back to new mexico, the oklahoma panhandle was blanketed in white above, white below. 

we were cheered to find the skies turning blue as we continued west & south. 

our visit to kansas was brief. but we started with my father's side of the family, in a house full of relatives. with plenty of food and warm people. they all happily welcomed my d. I was glad to see them together, it means much to have all the parts of my family come together.

went to christmas eve service so that I could see my cuties on stage. and then with candles lit, we sang carols from the pews, reminding me of holidays past. then opened presents. only to wake up the next morning to see that santa had brought even more. even the cookies were gone, which amazed my nephew. then a little time at the kitchen table, playing with new animals & learning new toys. 

and now we are at home. with new snow. and a happy cat. and a day off to just do whatever.
and a fresh new year is coming. 

friday

such holiday twinkling.

snowy december

my photos aren't doing the sight justice, so here are the snowy mountains of taos, by ernest blumenschein.

wise & mysterious. snowy & grey soft, rounded peaks.

 perilous outside our back door.

one of the best colors with snow.

raven tracks.

opened our gifts to each other with our candles lit.

then ate too many cookies while watching A Christmas Story.

preparing now for the trip to kansas. wrapping up presents. replacing windshield wipers. loading up the ipod with this american life podcasts. keeping an eye on the weather.

winter walk

yesterday it was snowing when we woke up. big heavy flakes. and then it just kept going all day.

bundled up & with my snow boots (thank goodness for warm boots) I
took a walk. to hear the crunch underfoot. and feel the crisp, cold silence.

the mountains above had disappeared, shrouded in the falling white.

I found some color I'd never noticed before.





















wishing this peace in the afternoon had been everywhere, for all.

and then later, I looked out the window and saw what the sunset was doing.
the light was breaking through, hitting the trees, and against the cold, blue-grey clouds it looked like the treetops had turned golden.

seemed like the kind of day that needed to end with a few candles lit, and some silence. the snow that has fallen all day has been beautiful & serene. the tragic news from a school in Connecticut has been painful & terrifying.

"Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul."
-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

Snow
*by Frederick Seidel*

Snow is what it does.
It falls and it stays and it goes.
It melts and it is here somewhere.
We all get there.

into the snow

snowy morning. and a decision to warm up the house by baking lemon bread for ourselves & the neighbors.

snowy cat feet. (she was shocked but curious)

snowy night.

reminded me of the wonderful book,  A Snowy Day, Ezra Jack Keats,

crunch crunch crunch his feet sank into the snow
he walked with his toes pointing out, like this.
he walked with his toes pointing in, like that.
then he dragged his feet s-l-o-w-l-y to make tracks.

eula's dress

eula myrtle derrick. she was born in 1893, married in 1914, had two daughters, and then died young in 1925.

we're only indirectly related, as she was the older sister to my great grandmother allie.

i find myself completely intrigued by her beautiful hair, those dark, intense eyes and the amazing dress.

she looks like she had a lot on her mind, and many things to say. I hope that she was able to.

all the many words

grandma & I think, her father.

I made a quick visit to Kansas to see my grandma. because as she told me, she's "feelin poorly".
am very happy I saw her. her blue eyes & her smile will always be a part of me.
while there, I looked through photo albums. and found some pictures to take pictures of.

on the front porch at the farm

for me, every picture is a moment of a story. a clue to a day in the life. and I find I gravitate towards the pictures that were unposed, a little blurred, or maybe just seemingly abstract, simply a glimpse into meaning....the photographer had a reason behind the moment, but it might be up to us now to figure it out.

mother derrick and her chickens