grab light where you can

summer writers
The SOMOS Writers Series began on Thursday night in the new Bell Auditorium of the Harwood Museum. The evening's guests were Natalie Goldberg and Ann Filemyr. Their poetry and essays left us inspired and enthusiastic. I'm guessing that after the reading and the Q&A, half that audience ran home to start writing their own stuff - that's how powerful these women are. I have an image in my mind of midnight lights shining from lone windows into an otherwise dark and dense night.

fire watch
We weren't sure how many people would actually venture out into the smokey air, but it was a full house. The smoke was particularly bad that night and started in the afternoon. I heard that there were visibility warnings posted on the interstate between Santa Fe and Albuquerque that afternoon and into the evening. The range of the fire has exceeded 100,000 acres and is (as of last night) 5% contained. Where to go if the air gets worse is the question on all of our minds right now. As you can imagine, there is a bit of tension (and lots of throat-irritation) in the atmosphere. I learned that several evacuees from Los Alamos are housed in homes here until they can return. The Department of Defense developed, with LANL, an aerial map kind of thing that's being made available to Los Alamos residents so that they can check out their homes and businesses from wherever they're staying. Apparantly several homes have been destroyed. It's not clear at this time how many.

time compresses
I remember several years ago when the Llama fire struck and a whole community of artists and writers homes up there were destroyed. One of the victims was being interviewed on the radio. She was grateful at the way people were rallying to help - from New Mexico, Colorado. She said "my children and I are wearing other people's clothing, sleeping in strange beds. We have nothing of our own left." There were mountains of clothing, furniture, food and potatoes! (from Colorado) in the National Guard Armory, and a huge ragtag army of volunteers. (I was a clothing and shoe sorter and unearthed two pairs of tap shoes and several pairs of satin pumps - predominantly pink!). At the end of the interview, Polly said, "we're tired. We want to go home." The reality behind that simple phrase has stuck with me since then and made me aware (perhaps for the first time) of how vulnerable people feel when disaster strikes unexpectedly.

and we continue on
After the reading a group of us went to La Pomme D'Amour (The Love Apple) for a late dinner - an great little bistro in an old adobe building that once was a chapel. After that it was a moccasin shop for a long time! The cafe takes reservations only - it's a rather compact space - the food is great (natural and seasonal) and the interior is charming, casual and very Taos . They have a selection of wines that adorn the deep window ledges of the rounded chapel windows and nichos that at one time, a couple of generations ago, probably held bleeding statues of Catholic saints. Next time I go I'll take a few more photos. We left rather late and pictures seemed less important than continuing to enjoy each other's company.

After everyone else had gone home, we took snaps of each other outside. I love this one of Ann when she turned away and the light touched her gorgeous hair.

I'm getting ready to leave now to meet up with my knitting friend Joan at one of the few coffee shops still around and then later on we're going to a Hat Show at a gallery in town. More about that next time.

in dark smokey nights
dry clouds obscure the stars
only one small light shines 
     a poet's window