peace is hard to find

a twenty-minute view

one

two

three

and then it's gone
mountains, drama - behind a thick curtain of smoke. It parted for a few moments to provide a glimpse of what's really happening and then, as if in a dream, no mountain silhouette, no smoke or (what I assume) flames. Everyone still on alert. 12,000 people evacuated from Los Alamos. No one quite sure of what is in the air. LANL assures us there's no danger. Fireworks banned - the decision of each county - but really, who would condone the use of fireworks in this incendiary atmosphere? Spotty light rain predicted after midnight. Anyone for a rain dance?

archiving
I spent a few hours this afternoon at the Harwood Museum working on their archives and it was wonderfully air-conditioned in the "basement" of the museum. I put the word in quotes because there really aren't any real basements in New Mexico. Rather the so-called basement at the museum is actually a controlled air conditioned area below ground that holds the paintings and other artworks that aren't currently on exhibit. And it was very comfortable and smoke-free down there. Quite different from the damp-smelling real basements in the northeast that occasionally get puddled by rain and melting snow. I've always hated basements. Spooky places. I once lived in a house in Rowayton, CT. The laundry room was in the basement and I swear that every time I went down and did the laundry, I ran back up the stairs as if demons were chasing me. Such is the power of imagination - one of the reasons why I avoid scary movies and books (Stephen King be gone!).

No one knows for sure what's going to happen with this fire. The windy gusts are worrisome. But I planted a few flowers in the terracotta pots on the deck - hoping for some color and cheer as the summer marches on.

My feet got int the way so I'll tell you that the O.P.I. polish I bought in NY is called a good man-darin is hard to find! Love it! It's very orange.

danger & kinds of loss

goodbye again
today was the last day at Turquoise Teapot and everything went on sale. I wanted to remember Sandy and Kathleen and their tearoom/antique/plant shop so, in spite of my declutter campaign, I picked up a few things. Authentic English/Irish tea, some sweet cloth napkins, tea cake dishes. I resisted the teapots (I already own too many) and the bone China teacups and saucers (I'm not a display-your-delicate-China kind of girl) - even though I was sorely tempted. They're soooo pretty and reminders of other more gentle times and places - a mood I am highly susceptible to.

read on as a blazing reality sweeps through
no matter how much I'd like to imagine myself in an English tearoom on a cool London day, my reality is quite different. I was so wrong with my fire news yesterday. On Sunday afternoon another fire started and it's already consumed 61,000 acres - this one is around Los Alamos (read: Los Alamos National Laboratory - where they built the first atomic bomb? forty miles away? the town that was evacuated yesterday? 10,000 barrels of lab waste (with "just a bit of plutonium in them, but safe"). As you can imagine, we're a bit edgy. Not worried about our home going up in flames, but the air that we breathe.... The fire is 0% contained (not due to incompetence, but circumstances) and wildfires are highly unpredictable. The wind is whipping up within unusually hot temperatures of 92 degrees.

The local (solar) radio station KTAO is on top of the news and we listen all day. In between bulletins they are playing music with socially conscious lyrics - peace, environment, war, death, love, destruction, hope, the future. Like we've stepped into a scene from The Day the Earth Stood Still (the old 1950s version with Michael Rennie - not the awful new version) and Klatu is telling us what can happen if we humans don't stop violating our planet. National Forests are officially closed to any activity at all and don't even mention fireworks for the 4th. I can only think of those firefighters and other responders wearing heavy clothes in 90 degree heat, near towering flames! It's is an unimaginable situation for most of us. They are extremely brave people. Let's send them positive energy and prayers for their safety.

good enough to eat

through a screen brightly
finishing up a telephone conversation with my injured friend this evening, I glanced out the kitchen window to see a blindingly bright tangerine disk on the horizon. It happened so fast and dramatically that I just grabbed the camera and shot through the window screen - which I think gives it an ahhtsy look, don't you?  In any case, I send my sun to Mag where it just lowered itself into the Pacific.

on top of old smokey
The mountains have disappeared as the wind is blowing wildfire smoke into our valley again - all the way from Santa Fe. We're all walking around with itchy red eyes and wondering how bad this really is for our lungs. And during the day it's too hot to close windows and doors. The air conditioned library was unusually crowded on this Monday, with lots of people working at their laptops and at the tables. I'm guessing that they were escaping their own smokey homes and offices. Mostly we don't need air conditioning around here beyond public buildings so when a situation like this smokey one occurs, we're trapped.

getting over it
as I opened the package of new merino fingering weight yarn that arrived at the post office.

Claudia Hand Painted Yarns, "Watermelon" and "Chocolate Cherry"  yum!

Just to test gauge of course...I mean...really...I'm working on that scarf and that shawlette and those other three socks... I started a sock with watermelon (sigh!) - so summery, so soft, so...delicious....(she's outta control again my knitting angels whisper to each other).

Inside the label bands are the words...

PEACE, LOVE, COMFORT & JOY

like an old chair

In spite of the cool breeze, bright sun, reasonable temperature, I'm feeling a bit like an old chair forgotten in an abandoned garden. The feeling isn't physical - it's all in my mind. I spent time with a friend this morning who lives with tremendous stress since her husband developed Alzehimers. He no longer lives at home and that opens up concerns and adjustments she's never had to deal with before. My friend isn't young in years, but she's a poet with a curious mind and youthful attitude.

and then
I learn that another friend far away was hit by a car as she crossed a city street on her way to a favorite neighborhood restaurant. After hours of surgery and setting of broken bones, she's in rehab until she's recovered enough to return home. She will recover, but her life has suddenly and unexpectedly been jolted, turned upside-down.

I like to believe that positive intentions sent out to the universe elicit responses -  and I've been known to say (as if I know what I'm talking about) that when you don't pay attention to the messages the universe sends back (if you even hear them), then it is impelled to hit you with a baseball bat to get your attention. With apologies to everyone I said this to, I now take back those glib assertions and accept that life is what happens when you have other plans. The universe is probably not directly involved.

and then
with a sudden but benign change of direction, I will share with you another great, cool, basic summer recipe.  Tweak and change it to suit your taste buds. Two servings.

soba noodles with broccoli and fava beans

7-8 ozs soba (buckwheat) noodles
2 or more T good olive oil
1 tsp minced garlic
broccoli florets, bite-sized, steamed
1 can organic fava beans, drained and rinsed
gomasio (sesame seeds with sea salt) or plain toasted sesame seeds (in which case you should add a dash of salt to the above ingredients)

Boil the noodles, steam the broccoli, heat oil and garlic in large frying pan. When noodles are tender, drain and add to garlic/oil mix, saute briefly. Sprinkle sesame seeds to your taste (I like lots), mix. Place on platter, serve hot or cold. Serve with a light chilled white wine.

the lloronas weep

by the river again

the water so low

through a glass

summertime, summertime, sum sum summertime...
I'm a pretty good cook but don't necessarily live to cook or even want to bother most of the time lately. I've been doing it for a long time. If I had a dollar for every meal I made.....I'd be in Paris this summer! Our tastes have once again changed with the season. Grilling is good, but meat and chicken don't appeal when afternoons reach 90 degrees (yesterday around 5 pm!). So I've been looking for lighter fare and found this recipe that I want to share because it's so good! It was in one of those free magazines at the organic market and I tweaked it a bit (as I do with most knitting patterns, poems, and other areas of my life).

quinoa salad

1 c quinoa, rinsed
1 tomato, chopped
1/4 c parsley, chopped
pinch of lemon zest (or tsp of juice)
2 T good olive oil (more or less)
2 c vegetable broth (organic)
1 c fresh spinach (or frozen thawed/drained)
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 c pitted calamata olives (cut or not)
1 (or more to taste) T apple cider vinegar

Boil rinsed quinoa and veg broth for 10-15 minutes (until seeds start to pop). Remove from heat, cover, let stand. Combine spinach, tomato, parsley, lemon zest. Drain off excess liquid from the quinoa (if there is any), mix with spinach, etc. ingredients. Combine oil, vinegar, garlic, toss lightly into the mixture. Serve warm or cool - then pour a glass of chilled Chablis over some ripe strawberries and see the landscape in a glass.

Meanwhile, when I'm not drinking dessert or trying new recipes, I'm being done in by allergies! It's soooo dry, still sporadically windy, there's another fire south of us making the air kind of hazy and heavy. But there's no humidity!

ah, youth!
In my teens and twenties, living in the east where there's lots of summer humidity, I was often heard saying, "I just love hot days and sultry nights". And I did. Those July and August nights were the best times to go into the city on double dates wearing lightweight sleeveless dresses, white shoes and matching handbag. Walking till late, browsing midnight bookshops, eating at a pizzeria with a small courtyard in back, trees festooned with strings of colored lights. I loved muggy city nights and daytime sunbathing on beaches or in the backyard with the garden hose nearby for cooling down (the backyards were in the Bronx, after all). Now we are terrified of sunbathing with its promise of wrinkles and melanomas. Nothing like the days when we'd lie in the sun reapplying Coppertone Bronzing Oil (SPF -0) on our bodies all day, until in late afternoon, we were deeply tanned and had a rosy glow. It was a badge of beauty and went especially well with a new cotton or linen dress. The old New York ladies living in Miami kept deep tans all year long, and if you ask me, they looked a lot better than most of us look now with our wimpy pale skin. They didn't have to take vitamin D supplements either.

long gone those girls
in their summer dresses
with white-shirted beaus
and perfect hairdos

solsticing

Start of sunset last night reminded me why these mountains are called, in Spanish, the Sangre de Cristos (Blood of Christ). This phenomenon occurs on the eastern peaks often and during all seasons. It lasts for brief seconds and is easy to miss. This one suddenly suffused my kitchen with pink light and I stepped outside to see it. Seconds after taking the picture the pink was gone, the peaks in shadow and the sunset continued on it's regular journey west.

We celebrate summer solstice with a touch of voluptuousness setting in at last. Poppies in the park

Yucca bells in my yard - a favorite of bees until they disappeared a couple of years ago

Fleecy white against deep blue - hammock time (except we don't have two trees from which to hang it).
The weather is comfortably cool - 70s for several days - nice! But very very dry. Signs in national forest areas are pointing at dangerous fire hazard levels. We keep our fingers crossed that nature with her lightening bolts or a stupid unthinking camper won't spark a fire. Small would quickly become large as afternoon winds are still strong.

As I walked in the park with Spike, he led me into a shady stand of trees that shut out the sun. It was gloomy in there until I spotted this rug hanging just behind the fence in someone's backyard.

can you hear summer?
wind's noisy voice softened now
     shushing wave echoes

views from within

an eclectic mix

Veggie-wise, this Saturday's farmer's market was overflowing with radishes, onions, lettuces. 

Music-wise, there were three singers with guitars (one singing Spanish songs, one singing Baez, another taking requests). Surprisingly, their voices and music didn't conflict as the wind was already dispersing sound - if you were standing near one, you didn't hear the others. There was a puppet show, one palm reader and lots of baskets.

los titeritos
This amazing puppeteer has resided and performed with her marionettes in Taos for many years. I remember taking my 21 year old granddaughter to see them when she was 6 or 7. The scenes are performed half in Spanish and half in English and kids are encouraged to get involved. When I came upon it as I entered the market, the female marionette was apparently dying and her mate was very sad - so were the kids watching until they were told that they needed to tickle her to wake her up. Four little kids rushed over and did the job. And then the puppeteer added, "she can't die, she's a puppet!" Great relief and laughter from the kids and their parents.

 

puddin' foot farm
Two young women recently relocated from Idaho turned their booth space into a virtual art installation with a lace backdrop and all. Their theme is "know your grow-er, know your sew-er" - the idea?  know who grows your food and sews your stuff. So they grow the veggies and have a sewing shop in Arroyo Seco called Jaguar Moon. Lots of energy as they do their small part toward reversing the effects of globalization on society and environment.

another farewell
After the market I met up with a friend at The Turquoise Teapot only to find out that they are closing for good next weekend. One more favorite tea/coffee (antiques and plants) cafe disappears. Independent businesses have a hard time here, but they keep coming in with hopes held high and we get to enjoy the best of them with the bittersweet knowledge that it might not last. Definitely a Zen lesson in impermanence.

drum roll please!

Last year's edition of Chokecherries: a SOMOS Anthology now sports this shiny gold sticker! As editor, I'm popping my buttons! Thanks to cover photographer Gus Foster and designer Lesley Cox - (my photographs are way below par -I  couldn't wait for tomorrow morning's light!).

And while basking in this glory, the new edition arrived! It has an Agnes Martin biomorphic painting on the front cover. We're pretty excited since early next year will see the centennial celebration of her birth and the Harwood Museum is planning a month of events surrounding it.

There's a story that goes along with the back cover - two paintings that are actually one!

Sometime in the 1950s, Agnes Martin was getting rid of her "old" work as she was about to embark on the minimalist work that she is so well known for. She was throwing away an unfinished painting done on masonite when fellow artist, Beatrice Mandelman came into the studio and asked for one of the throwaways - presumably to reuse it for her own work. But instead of painting over the unfinished work, Bea painted on the other side and left Agnes's piece intact on the back! It's a good story and with the help of the Harwood Museum we located the painting at the Albright-Knox Gallery in Buffalo, New York. The book's interior is strewn with old photos of the Taos Moderns photographed by Mildred Tolbert in the 50's and 60's. The visuals only enhance the amazing poetry, memoir, and fiction within the book's pages. It's an outstanding gathering of talent.

I don't use this blog to sell stuff, but if anyone out there is interested, copies can be purchased directly from SOMOS at somos@somostaos.org (575-758-0081). SOMOS is a non-profit literary arts organization that has managed to survive with grants, sales, donations, general generosity, in a rollercoaster ride through 25 years of economic changes! For more information about them, check out www. somostaos.org.

Meanwhile, as you're doing that, I'm breaking out the chilled bottle of (common, but bubbly) Andre Brut that Ron just happened to have purchased while I was away.

last chance winery

My son recently uncorked his first batch of homemade wine under the label (not printed yet) of Last Chance Winery.  It is a dark Merlot and pretty good for a first try. He learned the process from an experienced older Italian man who has been making wine for decades. We drank some of it (a lot of it) one evening in his backyard and I was pleased to inform him the next day that there were no ill effects. He's on the right track. Quite different from what I remember as a child.

the gangsta's wine
Our next door neighbor in the Bronx was a wealthy Sicilian who built a huge Italian villa for he and his wife on several acres of land. He imported Italian marble for the floors and the sweeping grand staircase outside, installed an ornate three-tiered fountain and a greenhouse where he grew oranges and lemons. I seem to remember a couple of naked cherub statues in the vegetable garden. My family owned a small pretty lot adjacent to his property and my father built our sturdy brick house on it. The neighbor made wine of course. Sicilian/Italian/New York = Wine! He had a chilly wine cellar you walked down into. It was made from blocks of stone, had a brick floor, and contained aged wooden barrels. I don't think Nunzio actually stomped on the grapes or did any of the labor himself (he might have damaged the big diamond pinky ring he wore), but he made a big show of wine tasting and giving some to us. It was terrible. My parents, who were not wine experts by any stretch of the imagination (cheap red Toscano wine at dinnertime) usually replaced the corks with cheesecloth, placed the bottles in the attic and waited for the contents to turn into good vinegar.

random images on Connecticut walks

ufo finito!

What I'm doing so far this season - finishing socks. No desire to knit anything else lately. It's not the heat because it's not very hot here yet. I just have an uncharacteristic urge to finish what I've started. What a concept!

shamefully unknitterly

she's home again
late last night after full day of traveling and a 140 mile  trip from airport. It is definitely not convenient to travel anywhere by plane from Taos. Fell asleep within the hour - in recovery today. Great whirlwind of a week. Got to know Dante better and share long visits with family and friends. Laughed a lot, ate a lot, walked, celebrated. Snapped about a million pictures when his mother tried christening suits on him the night before (worn by the boy babies in his father's family over several generations).

A brief panicky time ensued when we discovered that the tailor shop that had cleaned and altered the suits closed early the evening before the big event. I contacted my sister-in-law who rummaged in her attic and located the suit that all our boys were baptized in starting 53 years ago! The shop reopened and now Dante had three suits at his disposal. His mother chose the one that fit best (dig the quilted vest and tie). He didn't care of course and thought it was very entertaining when we stood him up and the pants of one of the suits immediately slid down to the floor.

chocopanic
On my last afternoon I was taken to a cafe called Chocopologie. They make the richest, darkest, most decadent chocolate treats I've ever encountered. They also serve food, but we had decided that we'd follow the convenient dictum, east dessert first, life is short so didn't even glance at the food menu.

dark chocolate with pistachios shared by Kira and me (we ate the whole thing)

chocolate covered brownie ordered by Megan - that's a champagne truffle on the plate - she nearly had chococardiac arrest halfway through the brownie (we ate the truffle) - and she's only 16! I was so into the pistachio thing that I didn't take a picture of the hot chocolate with lavender foam on top that my daughter ordered.

aht near the sea
A chilly morning on a grassy patch at the beach yielded salty wind and a serendipitous (there's that word again) arrangement. If the sun had been shining (it wasn't) my picture might have resembled a poor man's Cezanne. But it is what it is. The cold wind and sweater actually felt good after the heat and humidity of the day before.

confession
I didn't knit more than three inches of the one sock project I'd brought - nor did I go to the local yarn shop. I know, I know. It's a shameful thing - I feel the pain deeply. When I was attempting to feed and entertain Dante one day, I pulled a card out of a pack of flash cards nearby and this one came up first. Messages come from the strangest places. Somehow I'll have to make up for this lapse.

supper with tiffany

The breakfast art installation is by Daniel Spoerri and is at MOMA in New York. Soon I will walk to SoNo Bakery for breakfast - the first day when there is even time to do this. The morning air clear and cooler after a day of high humidity and late rain thunderstorms that caused electrical blackouts in various parts of the city. We spent Wednesday (granddaughters, daughter, baby, me) in Manhattan playing tourist and walked miles in the city. Although it was hot, we somehow survived long enough to initiate a rescue - early dinner at Serendipity restaurant.

A place where, when you enter, feels more like a vintage junk shop than a restaurant and perfectly illustrates the definition of serendipity ala Horace Walpole: the art of finding the unusual, or the pleasantly unexpected by chance or sagacity. Upon closer inspection, you see the chocolate and books, antiques, the restaurant beyond - a hodgepodge of Tiffany chandeliers, plastic Buddhas, Barbie and Ken lunchboxes,

The food is good, the atmosphere fun. We somehow managed, after eating, to disappear a huge frozen mocha/cappuccino dessert which, in the guilty afterglow, made us think we'd just eliminated any chance of looking like Lichtenstein beach beauties,

but then we walked thirty-plus blocks to Grand Central Station - stopping along the way for a bit of guiltless shopping at Sephora. By the time we were near the station, the baby's stroller was filled with not only his necessary gear (lots of it for such a small being) but also shopping bags, purses, food, other stuff. Baby Dante was on his mother's shoulders far ahead of us and - looking very much like a shopping cart bag lady - I pushed a babyless overflowing stroller, walked and dreamed about sea breezes and showers and remembered why, when I lived on the east coast, I stayed away from the city in summer. We arrived home tired and gritty, but having had a great girls day out (with one small male-type person).

Serendipity indeed.

latitude 41.11 degrees N

Remember Gatsby? the green light at the end of Daisy's dock? A late evening walk to the beach, nearly dark yields a Fitzgeraldian image - Sheffield Light far off in Long Island Sound. Long day of travel that started at 2 a.m. in New Mexico and ended at a beach in southern Connecticut with baby Dante (I think he likes me!).

The last of the sunset, new lights on in the park, cool breeze, good talk, burbling baby boy, low tide. I play with the night snapshot setting on the camera.

The path lights have recently been installed, lending the beach a sort of pleasant honkey-tonk look as an assortment of people walk, talk. I'm the only one trying to take pictures in the dark.

And that velvety darkness beckons as I drag my tired body to bed and fall asleep with thoughts of a long morning walk in the salty air, croissant and coffee at SoNo Bakery.

sky matters

invisible fires
There is still smoke in the air and particles of ash too microscopic to see with the naked eye. Which may explain last night's incredibly  dramatic sunset. Taos is known for its sunsets, but this one was off the charts! According to a 1987 book called "Meditations at Sunset" by physicist James S. Trefil, a really good display requires enough clouds to reflect the red light of the sun but not enough to obscure it. He goes on to say that in Japan there is a special tea ceremony that is performed while watching the sunset. I wonder if they're doing that in Japan these days after the terrible disasters that have and still are occurring. The news about the nuclear plant is sparse and I shudder to think about what's really happening and how it's affecting our planet more each day.

Very early this windless morning, the sun rose as a brilliant sharp-edged orange disc. I went out on the deck in my PJs to take pictures, but that atmospheric thing happened and tricked the digital lens, scattering the color into an aura around the sun and darkening the sky. My eyes were seeing something else. Is everything around us more virtual than real? An in-the-eye-of-the-beholder phenomenon? That theory of consciousness affecting what we see by the very act of observing it? Electronic, human, animal - each seeing differently. Einstein believed that a definitive reality does exist for humans. But I'm not a scientist and could be talking through my hat (I heard that phrase in a 1930s movie last night) and electronic lenses don't really see, do they?

"...the color you see does not depend solely on the wavelength of the light that strikes your eye but on other things in the visual field and in the mind of the viewer. This third component is the psychological part of color perception."          James Trefil