Here is my company on a wistful morning walk. Along with Lori, Sara and Cooper. And meadowlarks singing from the tops of trees. The obituary for Larry Calloway’s daughter, Lara, who I remember only as a little girl, appeared in the New Mexican this morning — the words as lovely as her spirit, I’m sure, …
Chamber music concert Sunday afternoon cleared cancer at least briefly from my thoughts. Turned out it was a celebration of my recent retirement from newspapering, too. I first realized my retirement and its pleasures a couple of weeks ago when I looked up through my living room window to watch clouds rolling in over the …
John Fleck comes up with the greatest maps and fortunately puts them on his website at http://www.inkstain.net/fleck/. Fleck, who’s writing a book on water at the University of New Mexico, excitedly notes that this new Bureau of Reclamation map defining Colorado River Basin hydrologic boundaries shows them extending into Mexico. You can find more about …
Even the clouds have holes today. As for writing, it’s a six-word day instead of an 800-word day.
My mother’s pencil sketch of her cottage and the bay at Hadlock, Washington, leaves me thinking about the uncertainty of human distance, how far we will travel. A question lingers in the moment of the drawing, sent to me after her death in 1979. “12 miles?” my mother asked in her neat hand, maybe wondering …
Looked west from Placitas this morning but thought east. Baltimore was on my mind. I asked the Internet about the city’s underlying problems. Found more than I bargained for.
Cooper got a professional spring cleaning to help keep him cooler in the coming months. My treatment for lung cancer has gone well so far and — strange as it might sound — I hopefully will be scheduled for surgery later this month.
WEATHER: Finally, real rain. Not virga, not barreling through like a train with another destination. It’s drumming on my flat roof at 6:30 this morning, pouring from the canales, wakening white blossoms on the Apache Plume, reddening the flagstone outside my bedroom window. It’s too good to sleep through, even early on a Sunday. I …
First came this. Then this. Then this. And on the reading trail, Joan Didion, in a 1978 Paris Review interview, had this to say about Ernest Hemingway sentences: “Very direct sentences, smooth rivers, clear water over granite, no sinkholes.”
Our neighbor friend Sara probably would have preferred that I bought a full-fledged recliner instead of this chair and footstool arrangement, but she has figured out how to make it work for her: backside on the stool, chin on my knee, not bothered by the gap in between. Resident reclining expert Cooper, Sara’s pal, sometimes …
dreamranch 