Desperate for an easily transportable and reheatable green beans recipe not involving canned mushroom soup or French-fried onions, I looked up from my New York Times research to find that Cooper, as usual, had my back.
Desperate for an easily transportable and reheatable green beans recipe not involving canned mushroom soup or French-fried onions, I looked up from my New York Times research to find that Cooper, as usual, had my back.
Sometimes you can see a lot in 15 minutes, turning on a ridge.
Some days hard to figure.
We were all out this evening, soaking up the last rays.
Redondo, too.
Busy morning,
quiet evening.
Every now and then, the clouds just seem to start dancin’. Continue reading
Click on photos for a slideshow.
Cold today after Monday’s snow and a bunch of Sandhill cranes apparently decided to make a break for it in their trip down the Rio Grande. Hundreds above Placitas this afternoon, perhaps seeking a thermal for a shot south. Fortunately, neighbor Lori heard them and alerted me — being a sissy indoors and putting off my afternoon walk — by cell phone. And, also fortunately, brother-in-law Bill recently worked me through some of my camera ignorance, enabling me to finally get my quick-draw, pocket camera lense on the graceful and talkative snow-dodgers overhead.
Not sure what this storm was up to this morning but glad it was here. And it’s been good to take in its power and glory, at least from the haven of my warm, dry home, after riding far on the stiff-legged horse that’s the rest of the world, from the disintegration of Peyton Manning to the specter of nations going to war.
Storm update: By 4 p.m., things looked like this:
And, for the record, this was the day the Santa Fe ski area, at about 10,000 feet, got 36 to 40 inches, enabling a Thanksgiving opening, as it used to be.
Evening path. Fruitful piñon. Orphaned oak. November. Paris on my mind. Trying to get my head around war. Democratic debate tonight. I’ll see what Hillary Clinton has to say.
Overlooking the gravel mine and car wrecks at dusk. The mine is encroaching on my home and my Honda is suddenly banged up, but tonight I am looking long, still convinced retirement is on Easy Street. Eighteen-year-old truck still running. Took it to Bernalillo for a funny noise, but for Erasmo it purred.
I am reading about Star Wars story-telling and movie-making genius George Lucas and feeling very small.
Breaking: Montezuma’s Ridge competing with Cabezon for evening attention.
The Sandias and the Rincon are always in the game.
Not quite sunset for the two below, but I’ve been having such a hard time shooting sandhill cranes in flight with my small cameras that I’m including them because I finally got a few. I also had to drive into Albuquerque before the sun went down. The first frame is with my iPhone, which was all I had with me on my afternoon walk. (It’ll get slighty larger if you click on it). The second is with a Canon Powershot pocket camera, which I hustled home for before the cranes got too far south. I had a little time. They tend to circle a lot over Placitas, seeking thermals, I am told, for another shot down river. I’ve always meant to go over to Tsankawi on the west side of the river, lie on my back on the sandstone and photograph the cranes from there. I’ve watched them from that vantage before — you’re at a good elevation and not far from the river — but in those day I always was without a camera. I know I could just go to the South Valley or the Bosque del Apache and wait for them to arrive for a winter’s stay — or just go to Jemez Dam to see them on an overnight stop — but it thrills me to see them overhead. If I can see them. I always can hear them first, and then it takes my eyes a while to pull them out of the blue. (And I am in deep wonderment about how they disappear into the blue in the hundreds and then explode back in formations of white. My suspicion is that it has to do with turning and their bellies losing and then catching the light). I used to have a dog, a St. Bernard mix named Sadie, who every year heard them before I did. Cooper, the Australian shepherd mix who is my current walking companion, is more attentive to things at ground level, and now I’m on my own in terms of crane alerts. They were pretty raucous on Wednesday, though, chattering perhaps about where to stop for dinner.
CNN instead of sunset tonight.
*Home page photo from Herald de Paris.
dreamranch 