Hit by monsoon rains this afternoon. Strongest I've seen in years. This is what a portion of our land looked like. Now, a couple of hours later, most of the water has been absorbed into the thirsty ground. Our house is on higher ground so the only flooding came through the opened windows. I was in town and didn't get home until it was well under way. With an umbrella I was still soaked from garage to house! He was in the studio oblivious to what was happening outside. Such are the minds of artists! Came in an hour later kind of surprised at how wet it was. A minor rainbow shown, but I wasn't fast enough with the camera.
Feeling at loose ends today. Working a little, running errands in town, waiting, waiting. For what? Who knows. I feel the change of season in the air. Field after field, empty lot after empty lot, filled with masses of ox-eye daisies. It's a magnificent show of yellow this year. I can't remember it happening in quite this way in the past. It feels very Italian!
Ran into a young man in town who was in a couple of my writing classes at UNM. He is half Taos Pueblo Indian and half Irish. A brilliant jewelry maker and writer. Just had his first piece of writing accepted by an anthology. He's psyched! We exchanged news, hugged, and commiserated on the difficult summer it's been for most of us this year. I keep hearing from unexpected quarters that this is a time of transition for many of us. I can't argue with that. I just don't know how it will shake out in the end.
I came home wet and tired and tried to work on finishing the latest pair of socks for the show in November, but the incentive just wasn't there and I poured a glass of rose, listened to some Coltrane, and took pictures instead!
Clouds ripped open; a rainbow
gleaming now in the sky,
the fields entirely folded inside
the glass bell of rain and sunlight.
Antonio Machado
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