My pressure cooker makes life easier when it comes to cooking beans, which of course I had to do today for my 75th birthday.
I had a birthday lunch at The Range in Bernalillo earlier in the week, thanks to Lori and Mike, but there is something earthy about making beans at home on your birthday. The temp today neared 100 and my plan was to read and snooze inside. Cowboy2 got me started early.
I somehow knew I would end up reading Evan S. Connell and sure enough I’m cracking my heavily notated copy of Son of the Morning Star for the seventh or eighth time, still fascinated by its mysterious construction. But maybe it’s just entertaining and Connell, after deep research, was having fun, even while sticking to the facts. Obviously there were many rabbit holes in southeastern Montana in 1876.
I met Connell once in Sausalito, Ca., as a teenager in the mid-1960s but he apparently was more interested in his date, the singer Gale Garnett, and I knew one of his nicknames at the no name bar there was The Great Stone Face. I wish I could have talked to him as an adult in Santa Fe before his death in 2013 at an assisted-living place called Ponce de León but I’m still enjoying his writing to this day. By the way,
Connell would be 100 years old tomorrow, August 17. https://lithub.com/evan-s-connell-at-100-ever-the-elusive-surprising-and-singular-conjurer/
Heavily spotted alarm clock, age uncertain. And thanks for the peaches, Naomi.
PS: No more bacon in the beans, folks. These babies are vegetarian. Beans, onion, garlic, cumin, Chimayo red chile powder, water and salt. The late Barb Armijo counseled me on my first pot of pressure-cooked beans. I was terrified but she walked me through it with no intervening explosions.
I was born in 1949 and my first home was married student housing at Denison University in Granville, Ohio, where my parents were young students. I have lived in Iowa City, IA, Las Vegas, N.M., Upper Arlington, OH., Santa Fe, N.M., Sausalito, Ca., Karşıyaka, Turkey, Larkspur, Ca., Berkeley, Ca., and near Bishop, Ca., among other places, and returned to Santa Fe in 1973. I delivered newspapers in Santa Fe as a kid and later, after getting bored with firefighting and conservation work in California, tended bar in Santa Fe. I came to think of Santa Fe, or at least its hills, sky and colors, as my hometown. I reported and edited for newspapers in Santa Fe and Albuquerque for 40 years, starting in 1974, and retired in 2015. I have lived for the past 35 years in Placitas, New Mexico, a quiet middle ground between Santa Fe and Albuquerque with elbow room and good access to public land.
Replacement of 16” crude oil pipeline, in place since 1957. This is the southernmost of two pipeline corridors through Placitas.
Cowboy2, like at least one his predecessors, seems to have found a safe place during the thunder and lightning of monsoon storms. If I put my feet on his paws, he even stops trembling. Cooper, although he also used the adobe fireplace, also took cover under the desk. I hope this guy senses that. He’s been here for eight months now and this is his first summer, although he came from Utah, where he reportedly was living outside.
Cowboy1 wasn’t bothered by storms. I took him initially in foster care but decided to keep him when he curled up with me as a few-months-old pup to watch the rain.
July 27
Thunder and lightning on the way, trembling buddy looking away.
Opening ceremonies, summer Olympics, Paris, 2024.
dream ranch 