I woke up thinking of a stretch of Highway 395 in California, running up the Owens Valley between the Sierra Nevada and the White Mountains, a ribbon of road on brown earth under blue sky. I once worked there, from Round Valley down to Lone Pine. I remembered how hard it was to leave it …
Why I prefer the Navajo reference walking rain to the Latin word virga. Looking west down the Las Huertas Creek drainage to the Rio Grande and over the great river to the volcanic plug Cabezon, Santa Ana Mesa at the end of the Pajarito Plateau, up the east fork of the Jemez River and to …
I rose this morning to listen to the rain. It’s so rare. I went to sleep as the weather came in, soothed by the sound of the wind, knowing it brought a storm. I discovered on rising a little snow on the Sandias to the south, a little more on the Jemez to the north. …
dream ranch 