Nothing else. Just Saturday morning.
Nothing else. Just Saturday morning.
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.
Four views at sunset.
It’s become part of the morning routine: Checking the smoke map. As I clear my head and loosen old joints, the daily drill is this: Fill the birds’ water dish, make coffee, feed Cowboy and check the smoke reports. I’ve already seen from bed that the smoke has blown in again. I can’t see the …
Blue sky in the morning Wednesday and for my evening walk, wildfire smoke gray gone in three directions at least for a day. Camera exaggerating in 6:30 p.m. light but still picking up smoke to the west.
The sky is so gray with smoke sunrise doesn’t wake me. Western wildfires in June are predictable, but with climate change they seem more frequent — and larger. The smoke this Thursday morning, June 18, 2020, obscured the Sandia Mountains to the south and Indian Country mesas to the west. I could barely make out …
8:07 p.m. May 22, 2020. 8:22 p.m. May 22, 2020.
My mind seems like these two: Cowboy looking out the window in the morning and the Georgia O’Keeffe print hanging over my bed. Cowboy’s ears remind me of the Very Large Array, and I think he sees deep. O’Keeffe’s painting is far-seeing, too, its monoliths and movement called Road Past the View II.. Intent as …
Walking rain, or what the weather wonks call virga, brushed the Sandias last night but left only a few drops of water. I headed out on my evening stroll after watching Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham announce the first easing of coronavirus rules. I felt as wary about the coronavirus developments as I am ordinarily about …
dreamranch 