Beep Beep

The City of Las Cruces, together with New Mexico State University and several health initiative and planning organizations, has published a booklet called the Las Cruces Prescription Trails Program Walking Trail Guide. The very first walk it describes brought us to Tellbrook Park, a small neighborhood park tucked into a side street over on the other side of town. 

I don't think we would have found this little gem without the booklet. We have friends who live nearby who had never heard of the place. 

On one side of the park there was a shady neighborhood of lovely homes. The view in the other direction...

... looked out over the desert, toward the valley and the distant Robledo Mountains. Back inside the park...

we found groupings of native plants and...

many cacti. We spotted some white-winged doves up in this odd-looking tree.

This green lawn made us stop a while; green grass being a real rarity where we live in the Chihuahuan Desert. Now, this is the part where you will need to do some careful looking--a bit of imagination will help, too. On the far side of the lawn you might just be able to make out three little rabbits, nibbling away at the grass. 

I was wishing for a big camera, or a telephoto lens, but had to make do with my iPhone camera. Glancing over to the other side of the lawn, we spotted a roadrunner. 

I think this speedy bird must be Beez's totem; roadrunners show up wherever he goes. I never get good photos of them. This was the best of the many that I took that morning, as the roadrunner checked out the bunnies across the way. 

Remember that you are using your imagination, please. The roadrunner greeted the rabbits like they were old friends. The four of them played a crazy game of Beep-Beep-Bunny tag all around the lawn, then away down a desert trail, around some cactus, down into a big arroyo, and out of sight. 

I have no YouTube video of the game to prove it, but I'm sure you believe me. You can see it with your imagination, right?

On the Way to Get Some Pumpkin Empanadas

I thought you might like to listen to some mariachi music to get you in a Las Cruces mood...

Fall in southern New Mexico is fiesta time; it's time for parades (it seems like every weekend), the Southern New Mexico State Fair and Rodeo, The Whole Enchilada Fiesta (known locally as TWEF), various wine and jazz festivals, hot air balloon events, and Dia de los Muertos. Coming in November are the International Mariachi Conference and the Renaissance ArtsFaire. You can see a calendar for this year's events here.

The high desert weather cooperates, of course. Chilly nights make for good sleeping, and the mornings warm right up, but the days don't get too hot.

With the cooler weather, our appetites start to return. Yesterday Beez and I thought that some pumpkin empanadas would make a good snack, so we headed out to (what else?) La Fiesta, the best bakery we know.

Here is what we saw along the way. I hope that mariachi music is still playing while you check out this amazing truck. The art work makes me look forward to el Dia de los Muertos.

If we were back in New Hampshire, we would be sipping fresh apple cider and munching on buffalo burgers at the Deerfield Fair. This truck (and those empanadas) tell us that we are, indeed, in a very different land.

"As skeleton-happy New Mexicans know, honoring departed souls is not some eerie voyage into the macabre—in fact, it’s an annual cause for celebration" ~Miranda Mirklein

Under the hood

The hood itself

Detail on the back of the truck

Thinking Ahead to Winter

Later note, October 7, 2013: Mystery solved, thanks to a friend who loves research. This is apparently a bagworm, and you can read all about its life and habits here.

These little guys are all around our patio. The caterpillar is somehow making that case that you see hanging down. At this point, he is still able to crawl around, dragging his case behind him and looking for the best place to settle in for the upcoming colder weather. Eventually, he will seal up the end and think his caterpillar thoughts until he is ready to come back out for the big reveal. 

I have no idea what he will turn into. Do you?

The completed case could easily be mistaken for a piece of wood a couple of inches long. Some even have very convincing "twigs" sticking out of them. Pretty amazing. 

The Catwalk is No More

In a recent post, ironically titled Desert Dwellers in Search of Water, I told you about our visit to the Catwalk Trail along Whitewater Creek in Glenwood, New Mexico. We were lucky to have seen and walked this historic trail, because the recent disastrous flooding has wiped it out.

Thanks go to Facebook friend, Alison, for alerting me to the terrible situation. 

These Are the Colors of Fall Around Here

I always get nostalgic for the beautiful foliage and crisp air in New Hampshire at this time of year, but we have a different set of colors (and some much warmer air) to love here in New Mexico. 

The skies range from deep blue overhead to a near-turquoise near the mountains. The chile plants are a dark green, and now that the green chiles have been harvested the scarlet of the red chiles starts to shine out in the fields.

Thanks, Beez, for that last photo. Mine was way out of focus.

Morning Glories, Cotton Fields, Gray Skies

We are lucky to have so many places for bike rides all around our neighborhood. We can travel along quiet back roads through suburban and farm areas. We can catch one end of the paved bike trail that circumnavigates the nearby city and travel for miles paralleling residential and university streets. And we can ride the many miles of hard-packed dirt trails next to the irrigation ditches that bring water to field crops throughout the Mesilla Valley.

This morning we tried one of the ditch trails close to our house and found that it took us past this cotton field. I'm sure the farmer probably isn't as delighted as I was to see these morning glories mixed in with his cotton crop, but I loved the picture they made in the early morning light of a cloudy day.

Look closely to see the cotton bolls forming at the bottom right. 

This trail had good stretches that took us under shady trees, then it opened to this view of the Dona Ana Mountains. With an early start, we had plenty of time to ride before the sun heated up too much. I love a good, flat, cool ride!

Desert Dwellers in Search of Water

In the desert southwest, it seems that we have either too little or too much water at any given time.
Check out that flooded road ahead!

We're enjoying a pretty good monsoon season this year. In some places in New Mexico, we hear that the clouds pile up every afternoon and the rain comes down, just like clockwork. We aren't always so lucky here in the Mesilla Valley--the clouds often seem to slide on by (a friend calls it the teflon effect) to drop their moisture somewhere else. However, we've managed to get 5.67 " of rain so far this year, spread out over 37 rain days. Not a lot, but more than we've received in some years. Keep reading to find out about a place just up the road (in New Mexico terms) that has almost too much water at times.

Sidebar: I just finished reading The Camel Bookmobile by Masha Hamilton. The protagonist, an American librarian called Fi, has taken on a project to deliver books by camel to the farthest reaches of the Kenyan desert, spreading literacy to wandering peoples who might never have held a book before. After spending some time in a place where every drop of water is precious, Fi finds herself dreaming about water in all its lovely forms, and especially the ways she is used to lavishing it on herself back home in America--luxurious shampoos, deep baths, big drinks of icy water, and so on. I wish I could share the exact quote about her water dream with you, but the book is already back at the library. (I hope you get a chance to read it, as it is a good story that also raises questions about foreign aid and bringing "progress" to traditional peoples).

Back to the idea of water here in New Mexico. As a former New Englander living in the desert southwest, the smallest (and briefest) puddle will stop me short, and I long for the sight of a flowing stream.  Fi's dream is one that I might have had. Lovely, cool, flowing water...

And so, as a Labor Day gift to ourselves, we set off in search of water. In only three hours by car, we found it up in Catron County, near a little town called Glenwood, on the Catwalk Trail along Whitewater Creek in the Gila National Forest.

Here's where that monsoon rainfall comes in. The Catwalk Trail area is open only from 8AM to 1PM during the monsoons, because it is one of the places where the rain comes down in serious amounts in the afternoons. Because the trail goes up a box canyon, any rain at all can bring dangerous flash flooding and debris flows. The roads into the area can become impassable and downright dangerous.

Speaking of dangers, we got a kick (sort of) out of this signboard at the entrance to the trail, which warned happy hikers of the possible troubles ahead. From the left, we were told that we might encounter flooding, rabid foxes, cougars, bears, dry conditions (no open fires or fireworks, please), falling rocks, more bears becoming angry due to the presence of dogs, and rattlesnakes. To round out the list, there was also a sign showing the Statue of Liberty and promising justice for all (which seemed somehow threatening under the circumstances). 

In spite of the warnings, the picnic area looked rather inviting. There were some immense shade trees that we thought might be sycamores. 

And here it was: Lovely flowing water at last! The creek was deceptively deep in the middle, flowing fast, and it was very, very cold. 

Further up the trail were the catwalks, which apparently were first put in during the late 1800s for workers who maintained a water pipe leading to an old mill at the mouth of the canyon. The walkways were eventually improved and strengthened, and became the Catwalk Trail we see today. 

Every once in a while, as we moved up the trail, there were more signs reminding us to watch for rattlesnakes. By the way, have you ever seen a rattlesnake in the wild? They are usually very difficult to spot, as they blend in to their surroundings so well--good thing they have that rattle to warn us when we get too close. I'm speaking theoretically now, as we didn't actually see any snakes (or cougars, rabid foxes, or bears) during our walk, though I'm sure they were out there. 

The day in the Gila wasn't terrifically hot, as New Mexican summer days go--only in the high 80s. However, because of the high altitude (something like 5800 feet), it felt blazing in the sunshine and quite cool in the shade. 

The ranger came through to remind the trail visitors to leave the area by 1PM. Indeed, on the way out, the road was under flowing water in two places (see the photo at the top of this post). We carefully forded the streams, and continued on our way, happy to have seen and heard and experienced some beautiful flowing water. Back home, it was another record-breaking high temperature day (97 F.) with lots of beautiful storm clouds sliding by to drop their moisture somewhere else in the land of rabid foxes and bears.

***

Thank you, Beez, for taking the photos for this post, since I left my camera in the car.

What We Saw in Albuquerque

My sister and I spent a few days recently in Albuquerque. We don't know much about the city except for the medical parts that we visit, but we did have a little free time to drive around Nob Hill. It is a neighborhood of vintage bungalows, very charming. As we drove down this street, we noticed something different looming just past this little cottage, above. You can barely see it through the trees. 

Here's a little better view of the front and its metal sculptures. This is the Bart Prince House, which I learned about on the internet by simply googling "weird house Nob Hill Albuquerque." If  you click on the link, you will see some much clearer photos of the exterior, plus some tantalizing glimpses of the interior as well. 

I wish those sculptures had come out more clearly

Tile work

Once you drive around the corner, the house looks completely different, perched way up there. 

Not too far down the road, we stopped in at Masks y Mas, an art gallery and retail store which was mentioned in the August 2013 issue of New Mexico Magazine. It was colorful inside and out, and full of Day of the Dead art, masks, and all kinds of accessories. I encourage you to check out their website to get the flavor of the place.

I got this snazzy bracelet for my sister and she is having fun creating outfits to go with it. 

 Adios, Albuquerque. We'll be back..

Sunset from the hotel

Our First Trip to Taos

We had somehow never been to Taos and stopped there for just a couple of days on our way back from the trip to the Pacific Northwest. I don't know what it was about that town that reminded me of Marin County, California back in the days when I was growing up there--the small town feeling, perhaps;  maybe the beautiful gardens and funky little houses or the relaxed vibe. We just loved it there. 

The first photo (above) is of one of the common rooms for reading and relaxing at the Hotel La Fonda de Taos, where we stayed right there on the Plaza. You can see lots more pictures of the hotel interior at their website. Our room was small but comfy and furnished like an old hacienda. The lace-curtained window looked right out on the Plaza, which was perfect when we were resting up from a day in the sun but still wanted to see and hear what was going on. 

The view from our window

And there was plenty going on. One night there was Native American drumming and dancing by a group from the nearby Taos Pueblo, and the next night was one of the free concerts that take place all summer on Thursday evenings. The Plaza was just starting to fill up for the concert, as you can see above. We heard a rousing performance by the local Damn Band, while having a takeout picnic in our room. Click the band's link and you can listen to some music while reading this post. 

Adobe building in the center of town; note the famous Northern New Mexican blue sky

Taos is a great place to take photos. On the way in to town on the road from Colorado you pass an outpost of the highly-imaginative Earthship homes, built off-the-grid with sustainability and creativity in mind. I didn't get any pictures of them but we have since found that we can rent one for a weekend, so we'll be back up that way for sure. 

Wall mural outside of a shop

After passing the Earthships, the road crosses the Rio Grande Gorge. The bridge is 565 feet above the river and that would have been a great photo op, but there was a movie being filmed there and we were waved through. I did my best to search for famous faces as we drove across--no luck, but there was lots of action. We'll have to go back there, too.

Adobe buildings abound

An interesting stay was made even more so when a cable was cut up in the mountains, taking out the town's Internet for a day. At first I thought it might just be relaxing--no constant checking of email or posting photos to Facebook. Then the little inconveniences started to make themselves known--no GPS or altimeter or map apps via our iPhones. We were still handling our day of stepping back into history (like the early 1990s, I guess), but then the bigger effects started showing up. 

We don't carry much cash when traveling, figuring our debit card is much safer, but that theory wasn't working for us that day. Want lunch? Sorry, cash only. Access to the cash machine? Sorry, no can do. Even the bank was locked up, leaving the arriving employees wandering around on the sidewalk. So, maybe we should just leave town. Guess what? No gas available, either. We started to feel like stupid fools, so attached to our technology that a little quirk could bring us all to a halt, but we had plenty of company. The poor owners and employees of the shops and restaurants, so dependent on the tourist trade, lost plenty of business that day. 

We "made do" with the lovely restaurant at the hotel, which put our meals on the room tab. But, oh, we wanted just one more ice cream cone at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory down the street.

The Internet was eventually restored late in the day and the town and its tourists all heaved a great sigh of relief. We have so many reasons to go back (carrying some extra cash this time); so many little back roads to wander, so many museums and galleries to visit, and so many ice cream flavors to sample...

Love Story

Way back when Beez and I first got married in 1981, we bought our first new furniture. My favorite piece was a small-scale wing chair with red Colonial plaid upholstery. It was the perfect size for me because I am short and the chair allowed my feet to reach the floor.

I sat in my comfy chair to read and to think. When we moved from Washington state to New Hampshire, the little chair came along and fit right into our 1770 Colonial home (see The House on High Street for more about that historic house).

Through the years, sitting in my little wing chair, I read about raising children, adoption issues, and going back to college as an adult. I studied for my classes in that chair; classes that helped me earn first a Bachelor's degree and then a Master's. I learned to knit there and made a lot of sweaters.

As I grew older, I also learned to take a quick nap while sitting bolt upright in that chair. Of course as I aged, so did the chair. An overenthusiastic puppy chewed the chair's legs and ate the upholstery right off one of the arms, so I learned to make slipcovers. Then I learned that slipcovers made out of thin fabric don't last. When the first yellow gingham slipcover got worn out too quickly, I made another slipcover out of a sturdy flowered fabric that I didn't like much. From that I learned that stuff you don't like just never gets any more attractive.

The third slipcover was made of plain and sturdy white canvas that I really liked. It lasted a very long time and went with everything, even this red room I painted in New Hampshire.

Red living room with dog basket and white wing chair

We moved to New Mexico and retired. By and by the white slipcover wore out, too, and the poor little chair looked so shabby. I threw a quilt over it but eventually decided, not too long ago, that it was time to say goodbye to my loyal and comfy companion. I asked Beez to please take it to the dump, right away before I changed my mind. He loaded it up and drove away.  

It was like deciding to put down a beloved old dog. I had really thought that it was the right time and just didn't have it in me to make another set of slipcovers, but I was haunted by the thought of my good little chair down in the pit at the dump, lying there at the mercy of the big bulldozer. 

That was almost a month ago. Today I came home from a morning at my knitting group and walked into my special little reading room. There, standing once again in its usual corner, was my beloved little chair--all reupholstered in fine new fabric, with its formerly scratched-up wooden legs refinished and gleaming.

And there was dear smiling Beez, who (after 30-some years) knows me better than I know myself. 

Road Trip, Part 7: Back to New Mexico!

Let's get this road trip finished up! After we left Green River, Utah (Crossroads of the West) we headed down through some beautiful country: Red rocks, and even some arches. 

In southern Colorado, there was a cattle herd traffic jam. I took a video because I was trying to capture the sounds of the herd, but you can mainly hear Beez and me chuckling. The cowgirl (the one with the dog) said "Thank y'all" to us for waiting for them to get situated, but we owed the thanks to her and her wonderful herd, heading down the mountain.

                  

And then, suddenly, we were heading down ourselves. From a high of 10,800 feet, we could see down into good old New Mexico. It had been a wonderful trip, but it was so good to be home again!