This Time of Year: Rain and Terror and Grief and Small Joys

Me to feed store guy this morning: "Got a bit chilly last night, right?"
Feed story guy to me: "Sure did! Almost had to turn off the air conditioning!"

We grinned at each other and had one of those moments where you share nice feelings with someone you hardly know. In this case the feelings were because 1) we've just about made it through another sizzling summer and 2) we're heading into months and months of pleasant weather.

Unlike the guy who runs his a/c all night, I just sleep close to an open window and around 3AM had to get up and rummage around for the light cotton blanket I'd put away last spring. Nice chilly sleeping weather.

We're still making our way through the monsoon season, which means (at least this year) that we have lots of rainfall and everything here in the Mesilla Valley is nice and green. The weeds are outrageous, of course, but I just try to think of them as fresh salad greens for the chickens.

The garden is out of control; all planting plans have been lost in the mists of last spring. It was way too hot all summer to venture out to do any weeding, since there was never a morning early enough to beat the sun. The plants that couldn't stand the heat frizzled up and the plants that made it through to this rainy time of year are romping all over the place.

Take a look at these morning glories--they love everything about this time of year. However, they have embraced and dragged down my poor sunflowers; and I'll bet no one can see the tomato plant that has been completely overtaken. It's somewhere under there on the left, but I lost sight of it last month. No matter--it was my first time to plant a Sweet 100 cherry tomato and it was a whole lot less than successful. Tiny nasty-tasting tomatoes that even the chickens didn't want.

The four o'clocks are still happy, although their brief daily blooming time is more like six o'clock (AM), so for most of the day they are closed up.  All through the garden are the volunteers--giant clumps of marigolds and columbine that just appeared, and a small field of self-seeded zinnias out in front of the house. 

Forgive me. All the babbling about this and that is really my way of whistling in the darkness of a very scary world, full of cruel tragedies--Barcelona terror attack today, Charlottesville Nazi marchers and the death of a young woman a few days ago. The specter of white nationalism in my own country is a nightmare. 

So, I've chosen to talk about flowers and weather and the small joys to be found in my own backyard, where hidden seeds spring up into something beautiful. I really don't know what else to do at this moment. 

The Zees Go a Little Farther West

We live down in the unseen valley between this mesa and those mountains

The irrigated valley where we live in southern New Mexico is surrounded by mountains. Between the valley and the mountains are flat-topped mesas. The other day we traveled west out of town and up onto the West Mesa to see what we could see. 

We traveled west until we came to the Corralitos Road, a place we had never explored. It was pretty wild west-y out there. The range was open, meaning fences like this one are relatively rare, so the grazing cattle can wander where they will.

The road was silent and empty, like so many roads in New Mexico. But, wait... What are those black spots up ahead?

Look out commuters, there's a bit of a traffic jam and a possible slowdown in the right lane.  No, the left lane.

No, the right lane...

After the traffic cleared we had the road to ourselves again. No sounds but the tires on the dirt, the crickets and the birds. 

The geology was fascinating...

... and so was the botany.

There was even a little astronomy going on, off in the distance. What wonderfully dark skies they must have.

While heading back down to our own peaceful homestead, we paused at the Corralitos Ranch to admire this rustic building...

Just behind that barn are the little corrals that give the road its name

... and to give some thought to the sign we'll remember for the next time the grandchildren visit.

Pecans, Chiles, and Mountains All Around

On my pre-sunrise walk this morning, I saw pecan orchards to the right of me with the Organ Mountains in the distance...

 ...and chiles to the left of me with the Dona Ana Mountains in the distance.

The chile plants are almost ready for harvest, and they smelled so good.

There are even a few red chiles peeking out. I'm guessing that this field will be picked for green chiles soon. As my Bill will tell you, there is nothing in the world like a green chile cheeseburger. Other folks will take a green chile right out of the roaster (where the outer skin is burned off), stuff it with some cheese, and eat it out of hand. Mmm, that first green chile of the season!

In some cases, the farmer will wait for all the chiles to turn red. Red chiles can be eaten fresh or dried for future use.

That sky!

Heading home again, this time with a view of the Robledo Mountains.

Airborne

This is the sort of rustic scene I see on my morning walk. A chicken getting ready to fly the coop. A rusty old truck in the background--so New Mexico. A dead tree. And...wait, a goat? A goat in the tree?

This is the goat who entertained us by teetering on the top of the fence the other day (Morning Glories). I've been waiting for a chance to catch him/her resting in the tree. Forgive the blur--Beany was trying to help me focus by pulling on his leash. 

Mushroom Hunters, What Do You Think?

Because this is the fourth wettest rainy season on record here, we are seeing things we've never seen before. Weeds are leaping up to the size of small trees within weeks. Our desert world is green--not just in the irrigated valley, but up on the dry mesas as well. 

And we are seeing these fungi all over the place. Can anyone tell me what they are? I don't have any photos to show what they look like one day before these pictures were taken, but the smaller version has a pointier cap shape. The second day they spread out like this. 

Our suspicious-looking chickens can provide some sense of scale in this last photo. Mushroom hunters, what do you think we have growing here?

Morning Glories

This is the sky that greeted me this morning. 

It's monsoon season here in the desert. This is the fourth wettest year on record, so far. That means lots of clouds, which make for interesting photos. 

Yesterday, the sun was just breaking through some gloomy morning clouds. As long as those clouds bring rain, we are happy to have them here. 

The day before that, the morning clouds were echoing the shapes of the mountains again. 

And this is the friend I see on my morning walks, the little goat who lives on the other side of the orchard from us and who likes to climb trees. I was ready to get a photo of him doing just that, but this time he decided to teeter on top of his fence instead. 

If you peer through the pecan orchard, you can make out a part of our garage roof on the left. Whenever I go out to see the chickens or to tend to the garden, this little goat calls to me and I say hello back to him. 

10th Anniversary

I almost always miss anniversaries, and this one was no different. I still want to celebrate it, though. 

The first post on The Zees Go West appeared 10 years ago this month on July 5, 2007. It was called Aux Arcs and Beyond and was about our trip by car when we moved from New Hampshire to New Mexico.

We traveled 2000 miles through 14 states in four days; used 11 tanks of gas; and saw license plates from every state but Wyoming, Montana, North and South Dakota, Alaska, and Hawaii. We traveled in three time zones, saw the World's Largest Cross, and lots of kudzu. We saw signs for parks named Hungry Mother, Frozen Head, and Toad Suck; we passed by Pickles Gap Village and Dollywood; and we drove by exits for Little Skin Bayou and Mount Magazine.

We traveled with two dogs (one of whom is still living) and three cats (one still with us; the others are buried out back in the pet graveyard) and lots of houseplants.

Gracie loves chicken TV

I wondered at the time what I would write about next. It turns out that wasn't such a problem after all, as there have been 1135 posts since then. Good grief, 1135! And 381,695 page views...

When the Clouds Echo the Shape of the Mountains

This is what I saw from my front porch last night. Too bad about that pole, but I can't complain about the view. 

After dark there was lightning aplenty, then a wonderful drenching rain. We got an inch of rainfall--big excitement in desert country. That's maybe a tenth of what rain we'll get all year. I'm sure there were dangerous flash floods somewhere, but here our scraggly back lawn will turn green in a few days. The pecan orchard manager won't have to worry about irrigation for a while. All our flowers in the raised beds will perk up because there is a huge difference for them between the rare rainwater and the usual groundwater from the hose. 

If children still played outside they'd be dancing in the puddles.

As for us, we are grateful that it is well and truly monsoon season. Oh, we'll complain about the 40% humidity. But we know that, once again, we have lived through the hardest season of the year--the days and days of triple digit temperatures. From here on out the weather will be just fine. 

¡Fiesta! Or, How We Know We're Not in New Hampshire Any More

We love our grocery store--Lowe's Fiesta Foods--here in Las Cruces. It has a special section for religious candles.

 The spices come in bags like this, and they have Spanish names: Canela (cinnamon) and comino (cumin) are ones I use a lot.

The chile section is mas grande. These are just a few of the dried ones. Over in the fresh vegetables you'll find the long green chiles that are such a big part of New Mexican cooking, and there are also fresh pequins, poblanos, cascabeles, jalapeños, and guajillos. The dried chiles, some shown below, include pasillas, serranos, anaheims, habaneros, poblanos, chipotles, mulatos, and the list goes on and on...

There is an aisle devoted to cooking utensils, including stone molcajetes, which are the Mexican version of the mortar and pestle for grinding food and spices, and are traditionally made of basalt. Friends up on the west mesa of Las Cruces say folks in their neighborhood occasionally dig up old ones in their gardens. 

Over in the meat department, packaged beef tripe for menudo, a classic tripe soup/hangover cure, takes up a lot of space; as does buche (cooked pork stomach), and pigs' feet. You can buy prepared barbacoa beef, carne adovada, and other marinated meats ready for cooking. 

There are very large 5-10 pound packages of prepared masa, which get made into tamales. Of course, you can also buy bags of masa harina and make your own dough, and there are always large packages of corn husks, also used for making tamales.

One of our favorite parts of the store is the big open tortilleria, where you can watch fresh corn or wheat flour tortillas roll out of the huge machines and get bagged up for you, still warm. 

It seems that every southern New Mexico food market features at least a few piñatas for kids' parties. 

Today I noticed some beer bottle piñatas for more adult gatherings. 

Even on a blazing hot summer day like today, the atmosphere in this store is always friendly and pretty darned festive. People move slowly, stop and chat with neighbors and friends, and smile at each other in two languages. 

Irises!

Last year at this time we had a lovely picnic with friends at the Hondo Iris Farm. After we finished our lunch, I could hardly wait to tour the gardens and pick out some iris plants to bring home. A couple of weeks later, I ordered some more rhizomes from their catalog for fall planting.

We set up raised beds between the house and the chicken yard, in a nice spot partly shaded by a huge old Chinese elm and well-serenaded by sparrows, finches, doves, and "our" mockingbird. Then the wait was on, dreaming of irises all winter.

All the early and midseason plants have bloomed with either single or double stalks of flowers. Next year there will be even more. I still have a couple of late season bloomers to look forward to, but I wanted to share the blossoms we have enjoyed so far.

Edith Wolford 

Fiery Temper

This is the same Fiery Temper in another light--quite an amazing difference, I think!

Florentine Silk

Best Bet 

Night Ruler

Spice Lord

Starship Enterprise

Joy in the Morning

"...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning..." (Psalm 30)

"O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" (Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll)

This morning's walk was filled with the joyful sights and sounds of spring. My companions were the little dog, Weetzie...

...and the youngest pup, Beany.

We stopped by the place down the road where the banty hen has just hatched out three chicks. She was out in the field, teaching them chicken things, but was too far away for a photo. We heard geese and peacocks, distant and unseen. 

Then we crossed into the pecan orchard, where the trees have leafed out and are making us sneeze. Oh, but they are lovely, and we will all appreciate the shade they provide in the coming heat of summer, not to mention the pecans later in the fall.

We passed by the dog who never gets walked, but who appreciates a hello when he peeks out of his pen at us. Then we saw the escape artist dog, Mr. Socks, who was out for a jolly free gallop through the orchard. He'll be in timeout tomorrow, I'm sure. We were cautious as we passed the gate of the noisy Mr. Bounce, who is a cattle dog with very springy legs who leaps up behind his stone wall, again and again, getting glimpses of us only when he reaches maximum altitude. 

As we walked down the irrigation ditch pathway, we came to the farm with the chickens and the foster dogs. They are a lively bunch, all of them. The same place has three horses that Beany likes to visit.

We crossed the country road to check out the newly plowed and planted fields. I'm not sure yet what will be growing there (cabbage? chiles? cotton?), but we like to keep an eye on things. Just past the field you can see a light green orchard of young pecan trees, and beyond that, a mature orchard. Watching over all are the Organ Mountains, the first thing I see out my window in the morning. 

Turning the last corner, we came to "our" orchard, which is the one that surrounds our small property. We don't own it or pay taxes on it or have to labor in it, but it gives us pleasure every day, and is a place where grackles, white-winged doves, killdeer, robins, hawks, owls, coyotes, skunks, raccoons, and the occasional tarantula pass through.

And then we arrived home to our little adobe cottage, where the hollyhocks bloom and the mockingbird sings.