Cowboy always feels better when we’re out walking in our front yard. I feel better when he feels better.
Cowboy always feels better when we’re out walking in our front yard. I feel better when he feels better.
Recovery room: Neighbor with surgically repaired foot, friendly dog and lousy tv reception came over to watch BBC comedies on the dream ranch tube while spring winds gusted to 50. Cowboy stoic but watchful.
Saturday. Last of the yellow aspen leaves on North Peak and way up Del Agua. Just whisps of clouds with no forecast for rain. Most I’ve seen of Cabezon in a couple of weeks, with wildfire smoke from other states clearing slightly. Drought, smoke and pandemic make some critters grumpy. Others stay busy, looking for …
The storm blew in. Tried to watch baseball with Cowboy in the front row. Looked like a perilous day for lingering lizards. Had to break out my winter hat, but saw the first cranes heading south. Weather couldn’t decide between rain or snow. Bluebirds came around, wearing down jackets. And others arrived to sit out …
Nothing like: a “you’re stable” report from the good people at Presbyterian oncology, three years out from treatment; a celebratory shredded beef burrito with green chile at the Range afterward; returning home to Cowboy and my books with a view up the camino of thunderheads rising to the north. I will savor those parts of …
When the days end like this … and the dogs look like this … we start hopin’ for more of this … Notes on photos: Big brown dog with water bottle is Sara, Cowboy’s good friend, owned by neighbors Lori and Mike; sun setting behind Cabezon with plenty of wildfire smoke trapped down low; yours …
I believe this in my 67th summer: In New Mexico in August, white is whiter, blue is bluer and green is greener. That is all for now.
Monday, Aug. 8, 2016
Sometimes empty is too much. Sometimes clouds are everything. Change is slow. But oh …
The weather technicians say it is the start of the monsoon, but I still balk at the New Mexico use of the term. It works when I’m reading Joseph Conrad, but it seems out of place as I gaze at the Pajarito Plateau. Against the grain of my newspaper training, reluctantly using two words instead …
dream ranch 