honoring all of it

We're still in the energy of the Full Moon of Spring dedicated to the spirit that rises

(Josseph the Starwatcher, Taos, NM)

pale sun & music
Things feel calm, suspended in this moment between seasons as the air warms up and there are cheerful bird calls each new day. At this very moment as I write, a meadowlark calls out from a fencepost a few acres away, an owl hoots in a tree somewhere (I've never ever seen it), and red headed finches are in the seed bowl trilling melodically. Temps in the 60s yesterday, expected warmer later today. This morning the sun faced the moon ~ due east and west of each other the rise and fall simultaneous.

the hot sun
Today is the third anniversary of my dear friend Gayle's death. It is a date I will never forget ~ or the Full Moon of that night in an indigo sky and the mysterious sound of drumming that rose with it even as her soul rose. The time between seasons that year was more dramatic than now. It was a long, bitter, unrelenting winter and the earth was still frozen with snow, ice and mud into early April, but that one night the air had the scent of spring in it and a touch of something different.

car slips in icey mud
driving from her house
robin saguinely calls
from bare rose bush
       ~ foolish bird!

monstrous & volatile

On the deck at 5:31 AM. The full moon setting. PJs, flipflops and a sweater. Not as cold then as now at 5:30 PM.That old devil moon that Josseph the Starwatcher predicted would be "monstrous and volatile" lived up to its promise (how does he know this?).  I know the moon's influence is felt before and after the full moment and boy was this true for me! Monday morning was a horrendous time of conflict, misunderstanding and stress. I was about to beg my doctor for Vallium which I haven't used in years and then remembered to just breathe. By afternoon things had improved somewhat (without Vallium) and by today I'm feeling quite different. I text my son: "do you know anyone who is happy?" He answers: Y do you ask that? [good question].  I'm hard-pressed for an answer, only that so many people I talk to are having a hard time. He agrees: it's hard to happy in these times. Oh dear. And now Ron is watching a video of Bill Moyers and guests talking about the inevitable total collapse of our economy as we know it. Fraud. Greed. Deliberate destabilization. Who has the money? No one's talking. I can't dwell on this. Horses. Beautiful tranquil horses in the morning sun.

pondering

Since the last post I've received my new Kindle Fire tablet. It immediately swept me into that learning curve thing and I've spent far too much time playing with it.

It's different, of course, from the Kindle readers I've had in the past which were mostly no-brainers but served well. I'm really not sure if I like this new Kindle Fire. I think I may have ordered the wrong one - should have ordered the HD model - maybe - or held out for the expensive mini-iPad. The screen is mirror-like and definitely needs a no-glare screen protector (which I didn't buy) - it's kind of heavy and bulky. But I'm going to give it a good tryout for another week before I decide to return or keep it.

Sunday drivers
We decide this afternoon to take a drive. I've been obsessed with the Kindle and not working on what I should be working on and Ron is bored, so we take off in the car and head north. Pass over the Rio Grande Gorge bridge and notice new earthship designs under construction. They are a different, sort of tall fairytale houses...

We've often contemplated building an earthship but always somehow backed off before taking the fateful step. Are old tires and aluminum cans really safe to live within? We once asked the architect about that and he said they were studying it. That was decades ago and we haven't heard anything more - and we haven't heard of anyone dying of aluminum can poisoning. We didn't look into it this time either. Just kept on driving and marveled over how our Taos Mountains often resemble photos we've seen of the Himalayas. It's pretty amazing. And while we were marveling over the beauty of these foothills of the Rockies, we were also discussing whether we want to move away from here someday. Where to is always the big question.

Back home after an early dinner, I finish up the toe section on the first new sock using yarn I've had for years in my stash. All the while thinking about my good friend who landed in Vietnam or Cambodia today (I forgot to ask which country she was visiting first). She promises to send me field notes. I love getting bulletins from afar.

bright sun, wind, life

March winds have arrived in full force. The tricky sun is at odds with air gritty with flying dust. It's the kind of day where you have to be careful that you don't do something that will change your life. It feels a little crazy. I've heard about the mistral in France and that judges often pardoned criminals "due to the mistral". Murder by mistral? Well, it could happen here. I try to find a calm place, cup of tea, it doesn't last long. But the fields are greening.

beauty is twice beauty
My meeting yesterday morning with 98 year old Manuel (birthday tomorrow)  put a whole lot of things in perspective. This man, at his advanced age, is slim, gracious, elegant ~ and polite enough to put up with my questions for more than an hour. I brought him a bag of croissants and scones from Taos Cow but he said he'd already eaten a stack of pancakes ~ at dawn!

When I asked him if he had any tips about longevity for the rest of us, his became animated and said, "be outside, the sky, the mountains, sun". This is what he misses most at this time of life, as he is unable to walk his fields ten hours a day as he has done for most of his life. Then he added, "fresh home grown food - organic! we always ate organic food". And always home baked bread. His son is planning a community garden this spring and Manuel will be an integral part of it.

you tried going out
even with a coat
there was too much wind

too much
wind
(Alicia Suskin Ostriker, the volcano sequence, excerpt from "the next day")

Il Irrigador & more

Working like mad today so that I'm free to do an interview and conversation with Manuel Archuleta who will turn 98 years old on March 22. 

Manuel in Des Montes, 2011 "Il Irrigador"

He has been a rancher, farmer, and keeper of the acequia (water/ditch) system in Taos for most of his life. I've been editing the oral history he dictated to his son a couple of years ago for a book. Manuel's mind is clear and there are many memories and facts in his words that I've been sorting through and organizing. His son and I plan to meet with him in the early morning to talk about family tragedies and triumphs that have occurred in the last two years, during which his beloved wife died and his ability to walk the fields and work the ditches has declined. I'm looking forward to it. To simply be in this man's presence is a gift and I'm privileged to have been invited to this project.

the more...
For now, knitting is not on my list of things to do. It's all about pens, cameras, keyboards, words. But I did finish the merino/cashmere socks last night watching a movie I hadn't seen in about 10 years, Desire Me with Greer Garson. Black and white, foggy and moody, the location is Brittany. The last time I watched it I was recovering from surgery (a long ago March) and happily ensconced in my bed with new red yarn and needles that I'd sent Ron to the Yarn Shop in town to pick up for me. I'll wear the new soft blue socks to keep my feet warm in my chilly workroom ~ the weather has turned cold again and I turned down the heat last week.

different soundtracks

blues in the night
or rather day, and we're not talking misery, sorrow, gloom, dejection or doldrums. Just lovely blue yarn, blue skies and the eyes of a cat named Blue....

...at my friend's home yesterday afternoon for tea and homemade lemon tart! She generously sent me home with a big piece to share with Ron, however, he isn't fond of lemon so I had to make the sacrifice and eat it myself! ~ a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

generations 
I don't Twitter, nor do my friends.  We basically do not have a burning need to know what each of us is doing moment by moment. Facebook is enough and often too much. Some of my fb friends are much younger, their lives different from mine and we meet up on other levels based on values, family, politics, shared history. I've noticed something recently. Often I will read one of their posts and have no idea of what the post is about! It also occurs when I'm reading a popular magazine or even [take a deep breath now self] the New Yorker. I know it's a generational thing. And I begin to realize that no matter how hip we of a certain age think we are (we. are. hip.) -- we're really not so in the eyes of younger generations with their own codes. We are, in their lexicon, geezers. Just as our parents/grandparents were to us. 

In Deborah Moggach's novel The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel there is a passage that describes this phenomenon well: "It was as if she were performing in a play and realized, quite suddenly, that the cast had been replaced by actors she had never seen before" -- and I would add: an edited script she hadn't read. If you haven't seen the movie or read the book, it's about older people in various states of disarray and circumstances coming together in a residential hotel in Bangalore. Good story. Both movie and book are worth your time.

yabbering
And now, hipster that I am, I'm turning to the espresso pot on the stove, the tiny blue cup, a single ginger snap. Just the sort of thing I'd be posting about if I were twittering...

cosmic order

and blue
In between other projects I'm knitting as if my life depended upon it. And, really, it's not my life so much as my sanity. By chance I'm in a blue mood again. The package arrived with hand dyed Handmaiden Casbah sock yarn in "glacier". Now I ask you, does this color resemble a glacier? To me it resembles a sky pearl (what the Pueblo people call turquoise).

I was expecting a different color based on the photo I saw. Cool, faded, icey-looking. So I showed it to my friend who loves all sorts of blues, hoping she would like it - she did - but is already going under for the third time with new yarn of her own. At home I browsed patterns. What could I make with just under 400 yards of this merino/cashmere blend in a hot color? A shawl? A lace scarf? four pairs of hand warmers? Then my brilliant brain came up with this: it's sock yarn, why not make socks with it? duh! And it turns out to be the perfect choice. Colorwise (stronger than shown) it's fun, and the feel is deliciously soft. I'm loving it and planning to keep the socks for myself for sitting meditation ~ the yarn was expensive and I haven't snagged a pair of luxury socks for myself in a long time. I forget that a rule for happiness (mine) is to treat myself to something extra special once in a while.

more blues...
Because I was so intent to try out the Casbah yarn immediately, I put aside the sock I'd already made with Opal Van Gogh "Starry Night" and one inch of the second one on the needles.  This yarn is not as soft, but if you've ever used Opal you know it gets softer with wear and lasts nearly forever. This color is also stronger than the picture (my house today is filled with bright silver gray light pouring in from all 51 windows - the cameras don't like that).

So. Because I'm rereading the book on Wabi-Sabi I'm not stressing over not-quite-perfect-for-me color, nor the two major writings I have to finish by tomorrow afternoon; blue calms and things will fall into place (she says as she reaches for St. John's Wort and the needles and yarn...).

If you're not familiar with the Wabi-Sabi concept...and if they were to be considered separately...but they're not.... It's explained this way: "when Japanese today say "wabi" they also mean "sabi" and vice versa....and...there's a lot of metaphor involved. Just saying.

wabi refers to:
~ a way of life, a spiritual path
~ the inward, the subjective
~ a philosophical construct
~ spatial events
sabi refers to:
~ material objects, art & literature
~ the outward, the objective
~ an aesthetic ideal
~ temporal events

name & place

The yellow parakeet in the cage
hanging over Dr. Casteneda's  weedy garden.
Amusing juxtaposition of name and place.
I'm in Mexico, need a doctor who happens
to carry a famous name that conjures up nervous
images in my mind of cannabis smoke, magic mushrooms
rituals, divinings, spurious traditions.
So many were enthralled by his teachings.
It was the 1960's afer all.
And then he went underground
imagined and manifested a cult, had three wives.
But not my Dr. Casteneda who shot penicillin
into my ass and cured the tropical infection
gave me a tri-colored marshmallow the colors
of the Mexican flag and a Coke.
So what do I have to say about a dead moth?
Nothing. Dry wings and dust.
I saw it on the windowsill not cleaned in months.
Take pictures because I always take pictures,
love small cameras and am possessive. Want to
own the moment--even a dead moth moment
papery wings on a creature I'd prefer to avoid
suicidal thrust against candle flame
wings beating against window pane
stupid senseless creature, death, dehydration.
What is the purpose on this earth, of a moth?
For me to take a close up photograph?
Wings evident in the abstract pale as paper
my friend with her huge papyrus plant
tells me she bought a small pot last summer
at the Farmer's Market and it's four feet tall now
and what do I do with papyrus?

all strung out

Snow, snow, snow. White world with mud and sun ~ the craziness seeping in again. It will take days and days to melt. I'd like to tesseract into full spring (I reread A Wrinkle in Time recently). So I didn't budge from the house yesterday and, among other things, finished the cheerful socks.

Annoyed in the last half of the second sock when I encountered 7 knots! A lot of splicing ensued. I guess when you pick up yarn at a great discount price and think you're getting a deal, it's not really a deal Although the finished product is really pretty and will be sent out today ~ the winner is...ta da!...my daughter who swooned when I sent her a photo the moment they were completed. I knew they belonged to her after the first sock. When dear toddler Dante saw the picture he exclaimed: "grandma in New Mexico".  Sweet. But he doesn't really know me any other way. Yet.

afternoon's gray mirror

I was drawn to write another post today because there is a kind of pulling in/reaching out quality in the air ~ and I've done all the editing I'm going to do for this time. 

downsizing & needling
I've been spoiled by technology that makes things small and efficient. My iPhone, cameras, the mac, the mini iPad on my wish list. I like portable knitting projects and I seek the perfect handbag, roomy yet compact and light. Sometimes I troll knitting blogs for information on yarns, patterns, the celebrity knitter's next trip, or event. Recently I've read a couple who are dealing with the challenge of storing needles. I won't even go into my collection of circulars stuffed into a large plastic bag in a tangled mess, but I have solved the dpn storage situation.

A few years ago when we were in Florence at the Uffizi, we stopped in the gift shop where I found a canvas pencil case with a Renaissance painting photo transfer on it. I wasn't thinking knitting needles when I bought it but it turned out to be perfect for sock and mittz dpns. The logo in the bottom right corner reads: FIRENZE MVSEI. It brings together two of the things I love most dearly, knitting and Italy ~ and it travels anywhere.

Then there is the mini-Denise interchangeable circular needle set. It's pretty and compact with needle sizes 4-10 ~ all I need to do almost anything. I'm downsizing again, uncluttering (is it possible?). Soon I'll make decisions about needles and yarn stash, send them off to be loved by others, but I'll keep the straight needles because among them is a set of pink enamel ones that belonged to the Italian grandmother I hardly knew, and the short red plastic ones that my granddaughter learned to knit with one summer in New Mexico when she was seven ~ besides, I like the way the mug of needles resembles an abstract art installation.

it's the sky that makes demands today
It's snowing again. Steady and wet. I drove home from town earlier, enveloped in a mysterious fog-like atmosphere. As if a thick sky curtain of pale gray was drawn down to earth to deliberately conceal every mountain and vista, maybe forever.  I couldn't see more than five feet in front of the car. Was this the same day of fresh morning snow, promising blue sky and hot sunshine? The giving and withdrawing of the season is like a pulsating live thing. But I can "praise the snow in March" because it doesn't last long. As I write, a two-foot long, two-inch thick icicle falls with a loud crash from the eave outside the window, startling me. It might turn into a night for rituals and spells. Or a glass or two of wine. Bring on the darkness, I won't be daunted.

over and over

It began around 6:30 this morning. Yesterday's rain turned to snow during the night and we woke to 6-8 inches and a transformed world. In my PJs I went from window to window snapping pictures through the glass because the scene was changing rapidly.

north...northwest...south...

And now, at mid-morning snow melts, it's sunny, clouds up, drips are stopped and become instant icicles...I've put the camera away. Nature outdistances me as always. Why am I so obsessed? Is it about my possessive personality? I want to own what I see in a tangible way? Own this day so that I can go back and experience it? I'll never figure that one out. And it's not important anyway. The horses don't give it much thought and when I look at them in the next field their simple presence calms me down and a few thought tumblers satisfactorily clank into place.

When I return from meditation later today, I'll resume work on my most cheerful project. I'm so close to the finish line. Last night, thinking about completion, I completely messed up the heel and had to rip it out. It might have been the late hour or the glass of wine or the Italian movie with Anna Magnani in her cardigan and bobby-socks. On screen she was the quintessential tough emotional Italian woman - in a class by herself as an actress. I know nothing about her beyond her screen persona. In the 1950s when I saw those movies I didn't appreciate her as I do now. I saw too many women in my neighborhood in the Bronx who looked and acted like her and I didn't want to be like that. I wasn't sure who I wanted to be but it was closer to Debbie Reynolds or Natalie Wood.

I have someone in mind for these socks. Sometimes during knitting an insistent voice informs me that what I'm making is really for so-and-so and even if I disagree, it always turns out to be so.  This surprise yarn has been fun to work with  and I think it has actually helped to change my perspective from winter blues to a touch of cheer.  I can't wait to start the next pair in spring greens.

I stayed too long 
at the yarn shop
spring rain caught me
swirled through my afternoon
and into the night
brought back snow season
another world created
as we start over again

often improbable

the present
Today the Tangee lipstick arrived from The Vermont Country Store and I couldn't wait to try it. Put some on as soon as I got to the car in the post office parking lot.

Yes, it did bring back memories ~ the smell, the feel, the taste. I did not however fall under a nostalgic spell. It's fun, it was too expensive, and the lipstick that changes color to become uniquely yours, turned neon coral on my lips! Scary! I don't remember what color it was when I was fifteen but it sure doesn't work now! I'll keep it as an artifact ~ along with the bottle of Heaven Sent that I bought circa 1956 and my mother kept for me until she died in 1989 ~ and (!!) I still have it.  Do they still make this stuff?

The scent is muy strong and may have fermented a bit over the decades since it nearly knocked me out when I removed the cap. It's on the table next to me now, cap tightly screwed on and the scent is making me whoozy.  How and why do I still have it?

and now for the present
I'm way ahead in my pair-of-socks-a-month challenge. Mostly because I cheated. Along with new starts I finished others. Here are the bamboos so far. 

And woolies. The two on the left are the Van Gogh designs: Sunflower and Room in Arles. The last one is more Starry Night, but it isn't and I don't know what it's name is.

My needles have been still the last several days as pen on notebook and fingers flying on keys took over. I spent one evening with seven amazing women - poets all - who gathered at friend Phyllis's home for a salon/gabfest. It was fun with food, wine, talk, laughter and poetry. Of the seven, three have collections coming out soon while the rest of us are in various stages of manuscript manifestation. I've been to business meetings, edited stuff, and have signed on some amazing writers for the Special 20th Anniversary Edition of Chokecherries, the annual SOMOS anthology. Can't tell you who they are yet, but stay tuned.  The publication date is July and  I'll reveal names sooner.

Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.
     (Mary Oliver, first stanza "Reckless Poem")

March surprises

Well, I was completely wrong about the horses and the plowing. The horses are back and no one is plowing yet. No matter how long I live here, I'll never learn the secrets of ranching. Here today, gone tomorrow, here today again....however, I know this....the Mountain Bluebirds are back...as of 5 o'clock this afternoon! Two couples. If the pattern of previous years holds, at least one more couple will arrive.They usually hang out in my neighbor's Russian olive tree but we get to see them. Ron recently put birdseeds out on the deck again so we're hoping to attract the birds that are migrating this way. We've seen some pretty spectacular birds in the past, but stopped putting out seeds when pigeons and mice were also attracted to it. Hope they stay away this time.

a peaceful day
spent working at the kitchen table. Overcast sky with liquid silver light keeping things bright, not hot, as it usually gets from passive solar heat pouring in the windows. Perfect. In a way it was a solitary day as Ron worked in his studio, only coming into the house a couple of times before dark. I even got to finish hand warmers ~ late for my daughter's birthday last month, but still appropriate when she receives them in a few days. Lots of cold days still ahead in the east (and here, too).

It's invisible in the photo, but the yarn is shot through with metallic sparkly thread and it's called Disco (Fortissima Colori). They're fun and sophisticated at the same time. I'm sure she'll like them.
 A bear under the snow
Turns over to yawn.
It's been a long, hard rest.
       (James Wright, first stanza "March")

animal kingdom

The morning started out simply enough. Tea under a cosy to keep it warm, oranges, toast, meditation later ~ and then, a couple of acres away, the trucks began to arrive, the men with them...

I guessed (brilliant! we've only lived here for 23 years!) that the five horses were going to be moved. This means the pasture is soon going to be plowed and prepared for alfalfa planting. Which definitely indicates: spring IS coming!

Where this white matriarch goes, the others follow. She turned to look at me just as I snapped the picture from far away. Amazing! Her baby, almost nine months old, is following somewhere behind. The five horses were quickly and efficiently loaded onto the trucks and driven away. As long as horses have each other's company, it seems they don't mind being moved from pasture to pasture. If one is ever left behind, the neighing and crying of the lone creature can go on for days.  It's all about being a herd animal but it seems sweet and sad when it happens. But not this day. They all left together.

an unexpected tribute
I opened today's mail and nearly tossed away something from Kansas State University's College of Veterinary Medicine. Turns out that our vet's office sent a monetary contribution in memory of Spike who died at the end of January. The Pet Tribute "honors the human-animal bond by supporting verterinary medicine at the University...and to recognize one of life's greatest pleasures: animal companionship". How nice is that? I have always believed that humans who devote their lives and careers to taking care of animals are special people. Many thanks again to Dr. Trish Albin and staff at Salazar Veterinary in Taos.

Until one has loved
an animal, a part
of one's soul remains
unawakened.
     Anatole France