I believe sunsets and dawns are indifferent. But this one was especially pretty. Primary election night, June 6, 2016.
I believe sunsets and dawns are indifferent. But this one was especially pretty. Primary election night, June 6, 2016.
In Henning Mankell’s novels about Swedish policeman Kurt Wallander, Wallander’s father is a painter who paints the same landscape every day. They think the father is suffering from dementia, but I wonder if there isn’t some clarity there, too. I seem to be stuck on Cabezon myself. Sharing photographs of the trusty old volcanic plug …
Politics took my words today. If you follow Twitter, you can see that I’m a little bit lathered about that smirking wise guy from New York. All I’ve got left are pocket-cam pictures from the last couple of nights. Shot from the hip, as always, but unlike the New York Times and Bernalillo County …
I forgot about food.
Old Cabezon suggests a new canvas every night. I wish it also would reveal a plot or two.
Western sky from Placitas. No end of wonders.
Rough day. Soft evening.
Super Monday. Super Tuesday.
For a moment, I wondered if the neighbor’s barn was on fire. Then — though thick-headed with early-season allergies — I realized maybe something can be said for wind-driven dust, at least in the evening, after a couple of belts of Flonase. And, if you don’t believe me about allergies, here’s a pollen-loaded juniper at …
dream ranch 