snow, then

A few years ago, my friend Sean Murphy wrote a novel called The Time of New Weather (excellent, funny, smart) and today that title flits in and out of my mind as a variety of weather comes to Taos. Always new, even if familiar. It's that time of year again. And we still don't have a fireplace in this odd contemporary house (there's just no place to put it with all the windows and glass walls). A blazing fire would be perfect tonight as the snow falls. But if we wait a few minutes it will all probably change. After rain/snow last night the clouds began to lift...

by the time I walked in the park it was lovely...until it changed again...

It's good weather for writing and editing and I'm making progress in those areas. There's actually more coming out of me than I can keep up with. A very unusual occurrence! But I'm not questioning it, just going with the flow as I'm trying to do with everything else in my life that's gotten a bit complicated lately -- but at least I don't have to knit inventory for a craft show (yea!).

My dear friend Phyllis's life and new book of poetry was celebrated on Sunday at the Taos Jewish Center and about 50 people showed up. I was given the honor of saying a few words about her and how we worked together for SOMOS through the years and about our Italian/Jewish/Bronx connection. She has been my friend, sister, mentor and inspiration for a long time. And she's working on a new collection as I write this.

The path is hidden
by snow,
invisible,
but thoughts of you
lead me onward.
       (Zen Master Ryokan)

alchemy

Not much has happened in this last eight days or so since I last wrote here. My postings will be less frequent for awhile as I plug away at the manuscripts and curtail my social life even more -- and that's awfully boring to write about. But this came up. Trucks. Not the one pictured above, the quintessential Taos truck, but our 1993 Toyota pickup. Due to the accident with the new car a couple of weeks ago and because it was in the shop, I drove the old truck around town. First couple of days I complained bitterly. So high that it requires effort for me (not exactly tall) to climb into it. Kind of rough ride, no place to put the groceries except on the passenger seat and floor....blah blah blah. And then something happened -- I really started enjoying the experience. It was fun. Sitting tall in a vehicle at least as big as other vehicles in parking lots that usually dwarf mine, nice change from his Miata or the sedate Corolla. With trucks on my mind, and as I edited some poems, I found this draft written some time ago:

What happened that made me forget
how it feels to drive the old pickup
on a hot summer afternoon
with all the windows open
warm wind blowing in my hair.
Or how it feels to sit in the cool
night darkness with a candle.
What happened that made me forget
to notice the smell of newly cut hay,
neat squares in my neighbors' fields.
Or that sagebrush, after rain, smells like vanilla.
Always longing to travel to other places
I forgot that this place was new for me
was all I wanted
desperately
like love.

The Corolla is at last all fixed and shiny with no sign of damage, only today when I stopped for gas the tank cover wouldn't open and I had to drive nine miles back to the shop and have it checked. A minor adjustment and it was fine. Then I realized that I couldn't find my debit card and must have dropped it at the gas station when I was trying to figure out what to do about the cover. I zoomed back to the station (nine miles in the other direction as the gas level got lower and lower) and discovered that an honest person had found the card and turned it in. I hadn't realized how stressful the whole minor incident had been and when I got home I collapsed into a minor book where I've been ever since, until now.

Beauty everywhere in the park today as the heavy cloud cover of early morning began to lift off. The soft days are almost gone. I no longer walk in the early morning because it's quite cold and I'm a sissy. I wait till mid-morning or later when the sun, if it's going to shine, will keep me warm.

In between editing and writing bouts, I've picked up a couple of unfinished knitting projects that seem new and interesting again. I stash them near my computer so that when I get stuck on something or find myself editing words out of existence, or putting back words that I just took out,  I pick up the needles and wool and shift from the head to the hands. And it's all good. A peek at my general horoscope for next month informs me (like the lace ribbon scarf):  
Look to the future with optimism!
Things will fall into place.

light in my eyes

Well, I've done it again. No blog postings for a week. I'm trying to get back to my more frequent postings but I've been so involved in editing for my forthcoming book (Fall 2014) that I'm losing track of time. But tonight, the almost-full Hunter's Moon called to me and I had to share what I saw at 6:35 pm MDT. Apparently this moon rises around sunset (tonight) and sets around sunrise and it's the only night in this month when the Moon is in the sky all night long. Cool!

I want to dance in its light, but it's kind of chilly out there these last few days. Yesterday we awakened to an all-white world here at 7500 feet. It felt a bit overwhelming and way too soon. By afternoon (and today) the sun had returned and the wet snow melted -- except on the highest peaks. I think I can already hear Taos skiers cheering (although the Ski Valley won't open until after Thanksgiving).

Speaking of which, I've made the final decision to not participate in the Yuletide Craft Fair this year (weekend after Thanksgiving) -- after many many loyal and committed years. What I will have for purchase are a limited edition of special hand knit socks and mitts. This is the end of inventory production for me. What is available will go to collectors who are already making contact in the frantic mode of Fear of Loss. Also, after the holidays I will be selling off my entire yarn stash and will post the event information here. My priorities are changing and I'll let you know where they might be going once I'm sure myself. I'll always knit (it's my occupational therapy) but not as a going enterprise anymore. For now, what I desire more than anything else is to be back east with my family and special friends for this late autumn time. And to be with my dear Dante who is busy these days apple-picking and pumpkin-posing and who will celebrate his third birthday in mid-November. He's a dreamboat.

flow of life

Such a day! Spent most of it on a picnic by the river with two amazing women. Phyllis (poet), Anita (artist). We ate, swapped stories, sat in the sun, the shade, felt the wind pick up and sing through the trees, marveled at the incredible blue above us, heard a frog croak and a fish jump in the river.

There was hardly anyone in Pilar today and we soon learned why. The areas for camping and lingering are National Forest and they're closed due to the government shutdown! Outrageous. We met a couple from Albuquerque who had driven all the way up intending to camp for a couple of days. No dice. They were angry. Everyone who mentions this shutdown is angry. Many people in this region work for the National Forest, and forest land covers miles and miles of our landscape. Not one bit of it is available for camping right now. I'm not sure if hiking is even allowed. One can sneak around the barriers and hope there aren't any officials around -- but they're probably on furlough!

What's even crazier is that as we were leaving in the late afternoon, one of us wanted to use the restroom. Not so fast - the restrooms are shut down, too. She was furious -- "bad enough that hungry people can't get food stamps, babies won't get formula," and elders are afraid social security will be cut, but now "an old woman can't pee!"-- she shouted to the universe...

In spite of that glitch, today was just what I needed. A walk in the morning and kindred spirit friends together all afternoon by a flowing river on a gorgeous October day...

just perfection

I don't think I've ever not written here for a whole week, so this is a first. But, as someone posted on facebook this morning: I am presently experiencing life at a rate of several WTF's per hour. And really, in my case, it's an extension of what's been happening since July. This time it was a medical situation that put me in the hospital for 24 hours and after zillions of dollars worth of tests, I'm fine. But still, that sort of WTF does put one on notice, doesn't it. So what did I do next day? Went to the Taos Wool Festival.

A perfect day weather-wise. Cold enough to wear wool most of the day. I bought only two skeins of cashmere yarn (there isn't an inch of space left in my house to store anything more) and today, sitting in a swath of sunshine in the house, I started a pair of luxe hand warmers in a gorgeous dark natural brown/charcoal for a friend. But back to the Wool Fest. After passing the tent of Sapphire Sky Fiber Arts several times, I was compelled to buy a gorgeous scarf in Indian silk and light felted alpaca. It was my reward for having survived the WTF of the days before.

It's an original design by Deanna Curry-Elrod in Golden, Colorado and it fit so well with a recent horoscope which advised that overlapping shades of purple and green will take over my need to see a clear shape. It went on to tell me to trust my intuition. Not sure what it all means, but WTF!

It almost frightens me 
to feel so alive