Ghost Town

Last summer we took a ride up to Lake Valley, located in Sierra County. There were no lakes to be seen, of course - this is New Mexico and water is pretty much a rarity. The valley was apparently named for ancient lake beds long gone.

Such big empty spaces

It was a beautiful wide open space, appearing pretty empty to the casual eye. There were few signs of people, other than the couple of cars we passed along the road and the ever-present stock fences. We saw a roadrunner (our state bird) and a few distant cattle. When we stopped the car, the only sound was the breeze through the grass; all else was hot and still.

It hasn't always been that way. Back in the late 1800s a huge silver deposit was found at one end of the valley. There are stories told that the silver was so pure that it could be loaded from the mine into railroad cars and taken straight to the mint with no need of smelting.

Enlarge this photo to read a bit of town history

Gone

Old safe

Sign creaking in the wind

 All that's left now is a ghost town, with just a few buildings still standing, but there were once 4,000 people living in Lake Valley. Saloons, churches (way more saloons than churches), a school, stores, a hotel, and houses once stood here. With not a single tourist in sight, you are free to sit in the shade and imagine what it might have been like in its heyday.

If you would like to read more about the ghost town, you can check out these links, or just google "Lake Valley, NM ghost town:"

- A page from the New Mexico Ghost Towns website: http://www.ghosttowns.com/states/nm/lakevalley.html 

- Bureau of Land Management site, gives directions and information for visitors: http://www.blm.gov/nm/st/en/prog/recreation/las_cruces/lake_valley_townsite.html 

- Official Bureau of Land Management Brochure, with some historical photos: http://www.blm.gov/pgdata/etc/medialib/blm/nm/programs/recreation/rec_docs/rec_docs_las_cruces.Par.30236.File.dat/Lake%20Valley%20Brochure.pdf 

New Day in November, for Skywatch

City-light diamond necklace at the throat of the mountains

Twinkles, then winks off

The wind chime hangs very, very still

A shiver-cold desert night is ending

Scarlet fingers from the rising sun

Reach up, into a warming sky

Distant dogs bark up into the orange pink gold light

Coyote gives one last commanding howl, and

The November day is born

*****

For sky photos from all over the world, be sure to visit Skywatch Friday.

Spooky Tales from New Hampshire and New Mexico

This is re-post from 2008.

Since the October chill is in the air and we are all drawing a little closer to our fireplaces in the evening, what better time is there to remind you of some ghostly stories found on The Zees Go West?

The tales start out with the strange happenings in our old Colonial home in New Hampshire, and continue out west with us to New Mexico, where the wide open expanses and lonely dark roads give rise to the spookiest tales of all--the skinwalker stories of the Navajos. Click on any title to read the tale. Don't be scared...

Creepy back hall in the 1770 house

From The House on High Street; Living in an Antique Colonial:

Meeting the Laundry Ghost

Bumps in the Night

Skinwalker Tales:

Skinwalker Tales: Introduction, definition, and the story of the newspaper delivery woman

Skinwalker Tales, Part 2: Anglo encounters with skin walkers

Skinwalker Tales, Part 3: A shapeshifter dog, a dog snatched up by a skinwalker, and a shapeshifter in the bathtub

Skinwalker Tales, Part 4: The strange creature on the cliff

Skinwalker Tales, Part 5: Living with a Navajo witch

Skinwalker Tales, Part 6: Chased by a skinwalker on the way home from a party (ever notice how many skinwalker sightings happen on the way home from a party?)

Skinwalker Tales, Part 7: Tales from the City-Data New Mexico Forum

Not Socks! Look What I Made

I finally knit something that wasn't a sock! My sister, Auntie Bucksnort, models the shrug I knitted for her. 

I used Malabrigo Sock Yarn in the Caribeno colorway. The shrug took less than one skein, which contains 440 yards. 

The Dream Shrug instructions can be found here, so you can make one too! You just knit a rectangle with sleeve ribbing at each end, stitch up the sleeve seams, then make a five-inch ribbing around the body opening. Either side can be worn up. The lace has lots of give so the whole garment is fairly stretchy and very comfortable. It's the perfect cover-up for air-conditioned rooms.

Note: The ripple pattern is worked over a multiple of 18 stitches. The directions call for 54 stitches cast on; because I wanted three ripple pattern repeats instead of the two in the original pattern, I cast on an additional 18 stitches for a total of 72. After the sleeve ribbing, I decreased the total stitches down to 54, which gave me the three ripple pattern repeats of 18 stitches each. That sounds more complicated than it is when you actually do it. Trust me.

Shopping for Supper, the Way the French Do

We thought we were prepared for our stay in France. We had translator apps all set up in our phones,  we had special European coverage so that we would be able to use them, we arranged to have Euros on hand, and we had a wonderful navigator thingy in our rented diesel Peugeot. 

However, I'm afraid that as novice European travelers, we simply didn't know what we didn't know. Out in the French countryside, very few folks spoke any English. No problem: We turned to our phones for some handy phrases. Oops, no coverage as promised: Phones didn't work. 

Then came the problem of finding something to eat. Okay, we had plenty of Euros but we simply could not find a supermarket, or anything resembling one. We found the occasional small village store, but they were never open when we were hungry. It seems that family mealtime is very important to the French and they all go home for hours in the middle of the day. When we were finally able to get into one of the little stores, they had what we would consider emergency supplies only. Obviously, the French were well fed and fond of their food, but where the heck were they finding any?

We eventually worked it out. We knew that there were occasional open air markets held here and there and the thoughtful folks who rented the house to us had left a schedule of which town hosted the market on which day. We were picturing American-style farmers markets, which we use to supplement the big weekly shopping we do at the supermarket. Apparently, the French buy the bulk of their food at these outdoor markets. 

And is it ever fresh!  If you will scroll back up to the top photo, you will see a gentleman carrying a cardboard box back to his car. We had no idea at the time that it contained his monthly supply of poultry, still on the hoof! A kindly vendor explained to us--he had a little broken English and we had less and far-more-fractured French, but we worked it out. He told us that those in the know arrive early at this monthly market, famous for its poultry, held in the ancient town of Lencloitre. Thousands of chickens, geese, guineas, doves, quails, and ducks are sold out in the first hour or so. People carry their boxes of live poultry back to their cars, then return to finish the rest of their shopping in a more leisurely fashion. 

I guess those little feathered guys provide fresh meals for the family until the next monthly market. No plucked and cut-up and sanitarily packaged chicken for these folks!

I liked the way the greens were hung so the ducklings (goslings?)
had to reach for their food, giving them a little exercise in those crowded cages

The chicken guys were able to handle six to ten chickens at a time by grabbing their legs

You got the sense that these weren't like the coddled backyard chickens of America--I'm talking about the ones that get names like Peckatina (to mention a girl we all know and love)

After the family's poultry supply had been squared away, people had time to look over the bedding plants...

... and saddles, clothing, shoes, fresh fish (dead, but fresh), oysters, eels, lovely cheeses, all kinds of charcuterie (as we learned, these are bacon, ham, sausage, terrines, galantines, pâtés, and confit), eggs of every sort, breads and all kinds of pastries, vegetables, fruits, and wine.

Oh, yes. We mustn't forget the mandoline man. He demonstrated his slicer with a deftness that had to be seen to be believed. He chopped, he minced, he julienned, and he grated. He made dangly earring-shaped decorations from zucchinis (of course he called them courgettes). He was charming. He knew he had a sucker with this American tourist (who was thinking nostalgically of the Deerfield Fair in New Hampshire). I couldn't tear myself away until I bought the miracle-working slicer and all its accompanying attachments ("only" 20€). Of course, it came in a sealed box with no instructions. We haven't managed to make it slice a thing yet but, on a positive note, we haven't chopped off our fingers, either. 

He minced, he charmed

Although we didn't buy anything that was still alive, we were so proud that we had finally figured out how to buy food! And wine! Lots and lots of wine!

I know I've shown you this photo before, but it's my best food photo ever. 

Time to Eat

When you're married to Beez, it's always time to eat, and there's no better place to eat than at Sparky's in Hatch, New Mexico. We like the ride to get there, and we like the green chile cheeseburgers and the red chile mango shakes. 

Sorry about the thumb

There's lots to look at, inside and outside Sparky's, while you wait for your food to be served.

Today, I'm showing you some inside views of the place. If you want to see outside views, click here, or here, or here. Sometimes there is even some fine musical entertainment. I always take some photos while we're wandering around the place.

If you're in New Mexico, you probably already know the way to Hatch, home of the famous Chile Festival. If you live somewhere else, you'd better come on down for some sunshine, unforgettable food, and good times.

A Day in the 12th Century

The medieval city from below (photo by my son, Ben)

One of the first places we visited while in France last summer was the town of Chauvigny in the Vienne department of Poitou-Charente. The medieval part of the town is on a hill, and it contains the ruins of several castles:  "Château des Eveques (‘baronial chateau'), the 'Chateau d'Harcourt', the 'donjon de gouzon', and the chateau de Montleon."

We spent the morning wandering around the narrow passageways. I was surprised to find that some of the houses were still occupied and that garages had been built into what might have once been stables. Adding to the mixture and ancient and modern, the 12th century donjon (great tower) had a rebuilt stairway lit by modern skylights; and we could see the cooling towers of a nuclear plant in the distance. 

Narrow little passageway

People still live inside the castle walls

Small cars can just make it down these narrow passages.
Note the garages to the right, and the old drain that goes down the middle of the pavement

I loved the views out over the old roofs

The Church of St. Pierre

This is a modern sculpture outside the workshop of one of the resident artisans who work on the ongoing preservation and repair of the buildings

This modern sculpture sits on the stairs leading to the castle keep

Amid all the ancient walls and roofs you can see a bit of modern glass skylight

Look closely: In the distance you can spot the twin towers of the nearby Civaux Nuclear Power Plant

Looking down at the small streets and ancient roofs; I couldn't get enough of scenes like these

More roofs in another direction. Interestingly enough, you could hardly tell where the walled city ended and the newer city began, because the styles remained so much the same.

Our House, Part 2

Sunrise over the Organ Mountains

I told you the story of how we found our New Mexican adobe house in Our House, Part 1, leaving off at the point where we bought a house without any working heating system right at the beginning of the winter. Were you worried about us? With a view like the one above from the big patio, who cared that there was no heat? This was the desert, so who needs heat anyway?

Well, anyone who has ever lived at 4000 feet in the high desert knows that heat is pretty important--keeping the outside heat out during the summer, and keeping the inside heat in during the winter. Since Beez had stayed behind in Clovis to finish up a job before retirement, my sister and I moved into the unheated house in early November. Although it was warmish during the day, the nights were pretty nippy and it wasn't long before we started burning packing paper in the fireplaces, then torn-up cardboard boxes, and then fallen tree twigs and branches from the yard. As soon as we found a good source, we got some real firewood delivered and learned a lot about making fires in the two kiva fireplaces. 

The big kiva in the living room, with a batch of bread dough rising on the hearth.
There is a smaller kiva in the next room. The front part of the house had an ancient gas-fired wall heater that the heating man disconnected as soon as he saw it, saying it was a fire hazard.

Kivas are wonderful. If you get a good steady fire going during the day, the adobe mass radiates stored heat into the room during the night. Of course, we eventually got a shiny new wall heater installed in the front part of the house and a heat exchanger in the back part of the house. However, my sister and I both have some fond memories of our times huddled around the adobe hearth. 

You will notice that even with our new heating systems installed, we still do not have central heating. Silly me, I grew up in a brand new [mid-century] suburban house and thought that all American houses had central heating. Apparently not in New Mexico, where the traditional adobe houses have no duct work. Because the adobe brick walls are thick and solid, even our electrical outlets are not set into them, and the electricity between the outlet boxes is sent along some kind of external wiring conduit that I'd rather not think about. 

The dining room, complete with cat on table. Say hello to Gracie!

But you can't beat our house for that cozy cottage feeling. Our wood floors (found under the carpeting that we couldn't wait to rip out) are properly creaky, the windows are set into thick adobe walls, the rooms just glow with lamplight, and the place smells deliciously of the fragrant juniper wood burning in the kiva.

My heart is very happy here.

Adobe sunrise

Our House, Part 1

Such a cozy room
The windows are illuminated
By the sunshine through them
Fiery gems for you
Only for you

Our house is a very, very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy...

                                                                             

                                                                              Our House - Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

Living room (before): Vigas (big log beams), a kiva (sculptured beehive fireplace shaped by hand with adobe), and a short banco (built-in adobe seat near the ladder)

New Mexico dreams: During the long, snowy winters in New Hampshire, we thought about a perfect adobe house in the desert. We learned about the architectural features of adobes and often said the words out loud, just to hear them--Kiva, bancos, vigas, latillas, nichos. We were pretty sure we would never be able to find such a house that we could actually afford.

Oh, I could find adobe style houses online. Digging through the listings for frame and stucco fake adobe homes in subdivisions, I would occasionally unearth a home that was real adobe. They were usually very, very expensive custom homes, nice to look at. But they were way beyond our means and they didn't really fit our philosophy of small and simple being best.

Years passed: Once we were relocated to eastern New Mexico for Beez's job and had started looking for our retirement home in Las Cruces, I even found a listing for the very house we would eventually buy. It was charming, but overpriced and way more than we could spend. It kept showing up in the listings, month after month. I got to know it so well that I noticed when one of the original two Indian jar stained glass windows was replaced with a new set of French doors, and when the outside was repainted. I would show Beez, and say "this is what we're looking for, just at a different price."

And then, one sleepless night, I checked out the listing once more. My jaw dropped: The sellers had apparently gotten so fed up with getting no offers that they dropped the price by $40,000! I called the next morning and made an appointment for us to drive the four hours to Las Cruces the following Saturday to see the place. Never mind that our Clovis house hadn't sold yet.

And then, things got even better. On the Thursday of that week we got a firm offer on the Clovis house, accepted it, and dusted off the checkbook for our Saturday viewing.

I still remember my feelings, driving toward the outskirts of town, thinking this place can't be as good as it looks in the listing, and then, seeing it come into view. Nestled into a pecan orchard, with a big patio and a gorgeous view of the mountains that had never been mentioned in the real estate ad.

Oh, sure, central heating had never been mentioned in the real estate ad either (I had noticed the omission) because there wasn't any. That probably explained why the house had languished on the market for so long. Or, perhaps, people were looking for newer faux adobe houses in subdivisions. I'm just glad no one else grabbed our house before we did.

Living room (after):
You can see a nicho in the wall to the right of the kiva. New tile floor. Visiting English sheepdog Bentley.

The story is continued in Our House, Part 2.

Cool Weather, Hot Chiles, and Hot Air Balloons

It's a wonderful time to be in New Mexico. We picked up another big bag of chiles at the Farmers Market yesterday, got them roasted, and brought them home in a car that smelled a little spicy, a little smoky, and a little hot. We met some folks at the market who said when they moved here a year ago from Virginia they had never heard of green chiles. They must have learned to like them, because they were getting a couple of big bags roasted. And they were smiling. 

Chiles make us smile, here in southern New Mexico.

***Note for non-New Mexicans: The green chile--the vegetable grown here (some right across the road from our house!)--is always spelled with an "e" at the end, at least it is in New Mexico, because the word comes from the Spanish. Those who accidentally or intentionally spell the name of this vegetable with an "i" at the end are immediately pegged as Texans. Chili is that deliciously spicy meat and bean and red chile combination that I am about to cook up in the crock pot this afternoon. 

Once we got the chiles home, we set up the kitchen for what has become a fall ritual. The hot roasted chiles were dumped into an ice water bath to cool them down and then they were drained. Next, they were packed into freezer bags, seven to a bag. We laid the bags flat on cookie sheets to freeze them, then collected all the bags and lined them up in the freezer for rellenos, sauces, stews, and green chile cheeseburgers all year long until it is chile harvest time again. 

This morning we drove before dawn over the mountains and through the Tularosa Basin with our friends, Pat Hulser and Mary Hulser, to watch 40+ hot air balloons launch at White Sands. With our senior pass and Pat's handicap sticker, we were able to park right next to the balloon crews for a close up look at all sorts of hot air balloonery. 

We're back home now. The weather is cool and sunny. Beez is watching football and doing laundry. The dogs are snorfeling (you heard me, Spell Checker, I said snorfeling, not snorkeling. It's a word in our family) around the back yard looking for ground squirrels. I am cooking up some chili with meat and beans to go in the crockpot and baking a batch of custard and an apple pie with apples from a local orchard, thanks to our kind friends who picked them. Life is good!

Remembering the Road Taken

image from Wikimedia Commons

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.	20

                                                                              ~The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

I have always been fascinated by the thought that there are moments in our lives when we face decisions, perhaps even simple and not particularly outstanding ones when viewed at the moment, that will change the course of the rest of our lives. They may pass unnoticed, only to be recalled many years hence. They may even be a series of decisions one hardly is aware of, a series that increases exponentially the changes that are hurtling toward one's unsuspecting self. 

For example: Perhaps you have decided to go to a party for the first time since becoming single again; and perhaps you go rather early, and are taken aback at the lack of other cars parked at the party house; and perhaps you return home, certain that the single life is not for you; and perhaps your babysitter, wise beyond his years, tells you that you look great and that you should go right back to that party and have a good time; and perhaps you do, and notice the one person you've never met there; and perhaps you decide (with the aid of a glass of wine) to go right up and introduce yourself; and perhaps you have a lovely time at the party you almost skipped; and perhaps, when asked that question, "When can I see you again?" you daringly say, "Now." 

And nothing is ever the same again. 

So, here is my question to you. Thinking back over your life, can you find a single moment when you took one fork of the road or the other, and found that it "made all the difference?" 

Please share with us in the comments. Thank you. 

The Case of the Disappearing Doctor

Update: Beez found Dr. B, shopping for vitamins at Sam's Club. It turns out that he is having some problems with his visa and will be back to work when they are cleared up. Thank goodness! 

What do you do when your doctor disappears?  I have had a very good primary care doctor in Las Cruces for the last three years. I started going to him because my friends recommended him and we were all extremely happy with the service he provided. He was one of those good doctors who listened and took the time to find out how you were feeling. A couple of months ago he just disappeared. At first we heard that he was leaving the doctor's group and setting up on his own, then the doctor's group started calling his patients and offering to change over appointments to another one of their doctors, saying that Dr. B. had "gone on vacation and never returned" and that they had "no idea of his whereabouts." This office has been very disorganized in the past; they cut off phone calls, don't send faxes to insurance and prescription companies in a timely fashion. We have learned to go to the office and stand there until they complete whatever task you need from them. Getting anything done over the phone is next to impossible with them. I suspect that Dr. B. was also unhappy with the office, at least I hope that's why he left. I have the feeling that he is unable to get to his patient list to let us know what is happening. So, here's the problem. I don't want to transfer to another doctor within the practice because I don't like their way of doing business. I want to know what happened to my doctor, and why he left. My big question is this: Have I been receiving quality care from him or has he been fired for some reason that I ought to know about? Where do I go to get these kinds of questions answered? Is there some kind of medical board that can help me? What would you do?