returns

The horses are back (two more arrived after I took this photo), and the yucca is in full bell-ringing bloom again.

There's a large patch of multiple yuccas out on our land - very picturesque - but I don't feel like walking out there (it's raining lightly) and my camera's zoom isn't powerful enough to snap them from the deck of the house (another justification for the new super-zoom I have my eye on?).

But no time now to think of that. Super busy finishing up the two of the three already deadlined editing projects (the reason why I haven't posted here since last Wednesday). Storied Recipes cookbook is a go - we received many submissions with fun and interesting stories and hope to have it published by October or November. Will keep you informed. Our cookbook meeting was appropriately enhanced by Bonnie Lee Black's Lemon Squares (in March she won the Gourmand International Award in Paris for her memoir with recipes, How to Cook a Crocodile). I ate 4 - OMG ! I had a sugar hangover this morning, but it was worth it. The photo doesn't do them justice but I was so anxious to try one that I didn't take the time to set the camera. Do you think I have a problem?  I'll think about it tomorrow; today I'm on the wagon.

and she kept knitting through it all...
hangover and everything...finished a pair of Alpaca Sox sox. Lovely pink/mauve/candy color. Love what Stephen Beal wrote in his book The Very Stuff: poems on color, thread, and the habits of women...

I have to admit I'm suspicious of this color.
Wary, even though I've come to use it a lot.
For one thing, if my daughter were going to the prom,
I would not select this fuchsia for her gown.
On the other hand, she might.
                       (from 3607) 

a rutted track

The pond is drained and the alligators (aka: deadlines) are moving in. It's the final editing phase of the SOMOS anthology and the middle of two other book projects I've committed to. Time compresses and my macbook air sucks me in like a black hole. The trees need watering, dead branches removed, the guest room (aka: my workroom) has to be uncluttered enough to receive the friend who will visit this summer. And don't even mention the garden patch still waving tall gray winter weeds amidst new greenery, a deceased lavender bush, and wild roses gone completely and dangerously wild. The car needed a new battery, my friend fell and was hospitalized, I haven't walked in the park in three days. The road is long. I dream of beach cottages, bare feet and a big hat. A dream.

But we did get to the landfill. I seriously considered tossing into a big hole filled with dozens of bulging plastic trash bags, 35 writing workbooks spanning about 10 years - an offering to the garbage gods. Courage failed me. Yet the moment is approaching. Am I ever going to reread all those composition books? Wade through inks and scribbles and casual collages that indicate my state of mind 8 or 10 or 3 years ago? Look for gems? If there are indeed any gems they will be lost and no one will be the wiser. Maybe something better lurks in a less jumbled mind. A bicycle on a pile of old refrigerators.

Couldn't fend off thoughts of life as throwaway junk. Too much stuff, too many messy, bent and broken bits. Too many old weeds. I remembered junk in other beautiful places.

And all manner of things on my paths that defy the concept - like the bluebird couple that visit the deck each morning and how, no matter how closely I follow them with my eyes, I can't locate their nest. The way a day without wind is a blessing and there's new yarn coming and it's the color of Victorian geraniums and watermelon.

And how sometimes the least we can do for ourselves is fix a pretty breakfast (and then sepia-ize it digitally) just for joy.

breathing again

Adelina is back and so is the Farmer's Market. Loads of smiling people finally able to once again stroll among seedlings, lettuces, herbs, eggs, and breads. Several times I heard comments: I've been waiting so long for this or I missed your lettuces or the eggs are going fast...duck eggs, too, and, oh, the lavender hand creme - I've been waiting all winter, hoping...

sometimes a day shapes itself
I left the house early to walk, browse the market, stop by the post office. A perfect late spring morning, no wind, the air not exactly clear but not filled with wildfire smoke the way it was yesterday when I learned that the Gila Wilderness (many miles southwest of us) was blazing - over 70,000 acres burned and 0% contained. I haven't checked today's fire report so don't know if there's any good news re containment. Dry conditions, strong winds, low humidity, difficult terrain, make it worse. We long for rain - great torrents of it - but the gods aren't listening. Many homes in the wildfire area  have been destroyed and ancient Gila Cliff Dwellings are threatened. In Taos today, the wind is blowing the smoke away from us and the mountains are more visible than yesterday which was an eyes and throat-irritating day with the mountains behind veils of thick smoke. Of course, the wind could turn and then I'll be running around shutting windows and doors and looking for the eye drops again.

It's nearly noon now and I don't have the rest of my day planned. I know it doesn't include appointments or errands; rather it feels like a time to let things unfold as they will. I can't help thinking about the people whose homes have been destroyed. It's a day when, if there were temple bells nearby, they would remind me to come back to my present moment. In lieu of bells, I'll have to remind myself. Besides, the wind is howling so loudly around my tall house that all other sounds are blown away.

Listen, listen.
This wonderful sound brings me back to my true self.
             Thich Nhat Hanh

So does a gorgeous abstract head of wet lettuce picked at dawn this morning. Yum for dinner tonight: basil, mozzarella, insalata, olives, good bread...maybe some parmesan encrusted chicken...

such a deal

dear knitters and tote lovers,
I'm selling my Tom Bihn Swift (designed in collaboration with the readers of Knitty.com) and its matching small project pouch (with see-through bottom). Original price: $90. It's olive/brown with a gray check lining and lots of pockets and hooks. I plan to buy the smaller version that's more my size.

I love this bag, the design is sensible and stylish, but I'm 5'1" and it's just too big for me. I've tried and tried to use it but when it's stuffed with knitting projects, books, and other necessary paraphernalia, and I carry it in my hand, it touches the ground! oh my! So, rather than have it languish in a closet or stuff it with yarn and stash it on a shelf, never to see daylight again, I will part with it at a greatly reduced price ($55 +postage) so someone else can use and love it. It's like new and very well made. If you're interested, please add a comment to this post that includes a contact address and I will respond privately and promptly. You can check out the details at www.tombihn.com.

and there's more...
Nancy's Knit Knacks tapestry pouch...also like new (I have too many!). It has a practical and adjustable cross-body/shoulder strap, rings, hooks, cellphone pocket...high quality fabric. You can check it out on www.nancysknitknacks.com. Original cost: $55. Super deal on this one too: $30 +postage). Both bags are made in the USA (if that's something that's important to you).

So, dear kindreds, indulge your knitting fashionista and give these reticules a loving home.

a good leafy place

There's color everywhere these days, but I missed the circle-of-fire eclipse yesterday. I thought it was today. Just as I missed Lucia's baby shower on Sunday because it was on Saturday! And when I delivered the hand knitted infant hat and socks to her parents' house to give to her, their dog came at me. I didn't panic, but tried to instantaneously figure out a way to escape without the cur chasing me. Fortunately, future grandad Billy came out, wrestled the dog inside, and walked me away from the house. While we were talking, the dog got out again and nipped the back of my thigh. He didn't break through the denim and my skin, but it stung for a couple of hours and I was a bit shaken by the whole experience. Another reason to not walk Spike in our own neighborhood. Instead I schlep to the park in town where it's safe. People don't tend to stroll there with vicious dogs.

This morning in the park, I only wanted to sit down on a bench, inert. Spike had other ideas and we continued to march on. I almost didn't go. My dear granddaughter Kira and her dear Dante decided to Face-Time us at 6:45 a.m.! It was the first time we'd done this and I must say that seeing my own face looking back at me, puffy from sleep, hair in disarray, was somewhat of a shock. Face-Time is a cruel thing. Dante was perky and cute and laughed at me. When he said I love you, vain concerns over appearance dissolved.

not easily ignored...

finito! in soft neon glory!

tune in to the dance

Did you ever feel that on a certain unexpected day your life would start heading in another direction? We all have had that happen at some point, but I was really surprised by it today. An ordinary gorgeous spring day. The usual birds, a faraway barely discernible church bell, the brief laughter of the neighborhood kids, a barking dog. A Sunday morning feeling. A baby shower to attend later, (the woman who was an 8 year old girl when I first met her), some grass to mow, maybe a stop by the nursery for a few hardy flowers for the terracotta pots on the deck.  But that's not how it played out this Sunday. I don't know final outcomes--how could I? but I'm open. I sense great changes in the air immediately around us and am curious to see what will transpire. Not afraid. I dreamed last night that death committed suicide. Meanwhile, we take an afternoon drive with Spike on the road to the Ski Valley and stop at a magical place in the woods by a rushing river.

We are the only people (and dog) there. Snowmelt. Simple cold water; winter snow become water in May, tracing ancient paths through trees and villages, flowing for miles until it's subsumed into the Gulf of Mexico hundreds of miles away from these chilly peaks with winter breath even in summer. Spike, unafraid, loves it. I keep him on a leash lest the current sweep him away. We decide that we should rename him Alphi since he's so bold and confident. He'd answer to it too.

The trees around this part of the river are in some places festooned with Christmas ornaments.  I've seen versions of this before. It's eerie, pretty, and I can understand the impetus  toward connection that emerges when one is sitting around a campfire, scent of burning cedar branches, beautiful roar of river.  But were these festooners here in December's bitter cold? Cold that even a blazing bonfire can't assuage for long?

It's the same spot where I used to take my small granddaughter in summer's past, where we ate grapes and homemade gingerbread bear cookies, drank cool water, told stories. She wore a neon pink Big Bird backpack and collected flat river rocks that she brought home and painted with colorful snake designs (I still use and cherish them as paperweights).  She was into southwestern iconography and snakes were her metier that year.

Ron took photos of his stabile maquettes. We couldn't place them in the river for ahtsy-pics or they'd be swept away, so we had to settle for tame, shallow close-ups. We each tried with our respective cameras but nothing great was captured. Next time we'll bring a large steel pieces and challenge the river.

While Ron sprawled out with his camera I spotted a cloud that resembled a while buffalo -- a very good omen for the start of a new life.

A night full of talking that hurts,
my worst held-back secrets. Everything
has to do with loving and not loving.
this night will pass. . . 
                      Rumi

this and that

There's a new tea shop on the way to town (new to me because I hadn't gone in - but it's been there for several months). Chocolate, scones, plants, antiques, flowers, handmade jewelry, books. There's no one way to describe it except the way they do: "delightful, divine, delicious". It's called Lily's (in the Garden of San Jose) and it replaced the tea shop that so many of us mourned. This place is divine!

My friend and I drank creme Earl Grey tea with fresh-baked scones in a peaceful, pleasant atmosphere. We could hear the morning breezes sighing in the old trees outside, passing through the open screen door, into the shop, riffling the edge of a tablecloth....perfect! I walked around with my new iPhone and, with permission, snapped a few pics. They've added cafe tables outside in the nursery area and we'll try that out next time. Maybe later today.

This phone has an 8mp camera! A huge improvement over my last phone camera at about 2mps.  It may be ho-hum to you techies out there, but it's definitely magic to me. So is the download of 100 books from my Kindle, and all the other stuff that's possible now. I'm still learning how to use it and occasionally I still miss a call because I forgot how to answer. I wasn't born with a cellphone in my hands like 21st century babes. I can remember... (omg! that's what geezers say) - I can remember a black party line telephone in our apartment in the Bronx (I was very young). A few years later we were the first family in our neighborhood to have a television set (my father, an electronics maven, built it).  It was mostly test patterns, but they seemed pretty advanced.

and now THE BEST! 

I learned about this book through a fb connection, borrowed it and couldn't put it down. I read while cooking, walking, knitting. It's a well-written moving, interesting, informative, adventure. I experienced laughter, tears, sadness - and hope for the future of wild conservation - especially in Africa where wildlife and jungles are disappearing at a rapid rate. Lawrence Anthony died in early March of this year, and that's how I heard about the remarkable elephants he loved. He hadn't seen them for 15 months (he felt they should be left alone on the huge wild preserve) when they walked many miles to silently surrounded his home after his unexpected death (chills). 

There is a new book by Anthony coming out soon. He wrote about the six months he spent in Iraq at the Baghdad Zoo at the height of the war, saving the animals that were left amid the unfathomable destruction of the city and the zoo. Out of 600-700 animals (the largest zoo in the middle-east) only about 35 were left and they were in grave condition. Thanks to him, Americans and Iraqis worked together for the animals and the zoo. I look forward to reading it. Until then, I highly recommend the elephant whisperer.