It is a stage of life when fondness for the Range’s linguine with basil cream sauce 
keeps me awake most of the night, but I doze the next afternoon to stretch my legs over the mesa in the evening with my young dog and see rain walking over San Felipe and Santo Domingo pueblos, against darkening shoulders of the Jemez, returning home happy to ice water and Antiques Roadshow from Austin and Bismarck, even after interruption of my hike by Presbyterian Health Services, my cell phone for a moment breaking the silence of empty public land with Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It is good.
dream ranch 