new terrain
I spent a lovely afternoon yesterday with poets, writers, artists, at a friend's home in La Puebla, approximately halfway between Santa Fe and Taos. It might as well have been in another dimension. Once one drives through rather unattractive Espanola, heading east, the terrain changes dramatically. Mesas, haunting sandstone shapes, soft hills dotted with pinon and juniper. It's quiet, the wind is softer. There are animals. Two sweet miniature horses - not Shetland ponies as I first thought, but small shaggy horses.
A gorgeous sweet-tempered dog who came to them as if out of a dream and stayed, followed me around when he wasn't resting on the new green grass among the flowers.
La Puebla is at an elevation of just over 6000 feet and it's much warmer than Taos. There, one can actually sit under a portal and not vaporize, freeze or get blown away. I'll bet you could even have a candlelight dinner outside - something we've never been able to do as it gets fairly cold here at night, even in summer - and it's always too breezy for candles. I do love this northern part of Taos Valley with it's million dollar views, but it's more ski country than gentle valley.
cheers
The reason for the gathering at Santa Fe Poet Laureate Joan Logghe's home was to bestow two New Mexico Literary Arts 2012 Gratitude awards. One to poet James McGrath and one to SOMOS (The Society of the Muse of the Southwest). A few years ago, a group of Santa Fe poets formed this non-profit organization specifically to help individual poets and organizations who support them. They have kept it alive with small grants and donations. An awards dinner sounds
chi-chi but it was organic and earthy.
Jeans, sandals, wine, homemade cookies, cakes, poems. I loved being there, meeting new people, seeing old friends and acquaintances. All of us getting older, better, more opinionated and accomplished! Many have appeared through the years in the anthology I edit,
Chokecherries, and whom I hadn't met. I couldn't help but think about how the whole scene must be similar to times past when creative people of like mind nourished each other and their works. We've all read about them: 1920's Paris, New York, San Francisco, artist, beat poets...the golden ages that Woody Allen depicted in Midnight in Paris... I thought those scenes were long gone, but they're not. Even as somewhat of an outsider, I felt welcomed and inspired. In between conversations, I wandered around with my camera.
The birdhouse is still available for rent and the lilacs (in my yard) are still holding tight...
I come from that city. I am now living
in the city of lost beauty, but I may
return to that first city. I am now living
on three acres of heaven and three acres
of hell. I am now counting the chickens,
the cacti; three Araucanas, limitless prickly pear.
I am now watching my neighbors age as we wave
across arroyos and gullies...
(Joan Logghe, excerpt, "That Other City", fr.
The Singing Bowl, University of New Mexico Press, 2011)
