Normal hair day. Many are out for breakfast in Placitas and the Range is reopening in Bernalillo. A couple of characters show up for a drink. Some share. Some pig out. Then the tricksters come straggling home from last night. (A jackalope leaves a prickly pear half chomped). They’ve passed this way before and one …
Enough to get me started.
Maybe it’s because sandhill cranes are starting to return north from our Middle Rio Grande Valley that I keep thinking of this Assiniboine story about the creation of seasons. I came across the story in an essay called Long Time Ago by the late James Welch. I liked his line, “It is remarkable how logical …
We were taking in the views Tuesday morning, glad for moisture in the midst of drought. The first bird I saw was a Townsend solitaire perched on a fence post. Cabezon was clear to the west. Maybe unwisely, I decided to check my email. The first message was a little more odd than the regular …
Nothing else. Just Saturday morning.
The jackrabbit was moving fast, at least three minutes ahead. These guys followed, noses down over the tracks. But sometimes you just throw in the towel. On a rainy day, this guy sat under a juniper and watched me, warm and dry, watching him through the bedroom window.
Towhee. Lost gloves. Hillside romance. Titmouse. Good book, (hat tip to a friend). Sunday clouds. Last of the Oct. 26-27 snow. Voting souvenir. More visitors: Titmouse. House finch. Junco. Western bluebird, one of many robins. Click on Nate Silver/FiveThirtyEight for his final Nov. 3 election forecast. What’s cookin’. Also stopping by: Mountain bluebird. Sage thrasher. …
Two days: First winter weather approaching piñon/juniper country.
dream ranch 