The day began like this.
The day began like this.
No Sean Penn. No awkward awards ceremony speeches or tasteless humor. Just blue sky, birds and trees. I did find myself worrying about what BLM might do with the undeveloped open space a few footsteps from my front door but crisp air smoothed my step and now I am back home, turning the page to …
Cooper and I race the sun to the top of the hill, stopping more often than we used to for me to catch my wind and Coop to take it all in. I have been to town for lunch with old friends. Over portions we can’t finish, our conversation dwells on retirement finance, heart disease, …
They ain’t busted me yet on coffee and Coop’s got snow. Maybe this year I’ll figure out whether my Pimpernel coasters with Navajo weavings are supposed to go face up or face down. I really do wish all my family and friends the best of everything, although calendars are not what we’re made of …
Coming home. Headin’ to bed. Waking up. Daily bread. Still cold and creaking. But “nothing but blue skies do I see.”
House finches stocked up before the storm. It came in fast, right about noon. Some fellows are suited for the weather. Then there are birds of a feather. Some just like to stay inside together. No sunset views tonight. We may be snowed in by first light. Thanks to nmPBS, I made it to Royal …
We are very fortunate at dreamranch, but there are a couple of things on our holiday wish list. More posole. More snow.
I felt like sitting around and drinking coffee, but fresh snow meant it was a Cooper kind of a day. So, after a protracted exchange of glances, we set off in the Sunday snow. He’d had his breakfast. Mine apparently could wait. Not quite like it was in the old days, with Cooper, newly …
When it turns dark and cold out my way, I often think of Coronado parking his expedition two winters in Bernalillo. Fortunately, for Cooper and me, there was a break in the weather Saturday for our evening walk. You could sense the storm coming Friday, although neither cows nor volcanoes looked disturbed. Still, we were …
from 2015 Here’s a sure sign at my house of the season coming: An old Christmas cactus is blooming once again. It’s a relic of a former partner and because I am neither a very good mate nor a plants-inside kind of a guy, it doesn’t get much care. It must like my kitchen, though. …
