Sidetracked Charley

Distant Promise by J. Binford-Bell Supposedly for a good black and white landscape you need a noisy sky. I feel as if my life this winter and spring has been a noisy sky. So much going on around me. Some things I have written about like the tenant situation and some not. Some things I have actually not been aware of myself. It is like not noticing the clouds until a dark one shuts out the sun. And some nagging little things I ignore because to acknowledge them might give them power. Denial is a God given survival skill after all. The bad tenants and the things I had to do in order to rent the apartment to get a good tenant of course caused financial issues. And it takes a while to catch up once you get behind. And that of course causes stress. And then some years back I committed support to my neighbor when her husband was diagnosed with a fatal cancer. At the time I made that commitment she and I figured months. It has been years. Not all of them critical. But since Good Frid

Hope of Rain by J. Binford-Bell Yesterday was another trip to Raton. Another two hours each direction to search the barren landscape for buffalo or antelope or signs of rain. Another opportunity to Zen Out as I like to call it. I have always been a chop wood, carry water sort of mediator, and trapping me in a car with the cell phone off is almost like taking a retreat weekend on the fly. And yet I so resist this repeat journey. I have the road signs memorized even. And the effect of the drought on the land has been painful to see. And yet drought comes and goes especially in the high desert. It is difficult to remember that with the extremes in weather we are now seeing. There is more and more proof of climate change. This drought might not end. And yet the trees think so. Their roots deep in the aquifer they have leafed out yet again. Their fresh and hopeful green a stark contrast to the dried grasses and barren soil. Toward the mountains on the north side of the highway there

Bokchoy This is my first year to plant bokchoy. I love the stuff. I eat it raw like other friends eat celery. And I use it in stir fry and salads. It always seemed to exotic to plant but when I saw the heritage seeds at my favorite garden supply I decided to give it a try and then promptly forgot I had. Seriously. Yes, I have a journal where I have drawn my beds and penciled in what is planted where but do I bring it out for reference in my garden? No. My Garden Journal is an evening activity where I recall the temps and progress and latest modifications. I discovered the bokchoy yesterday when I cut back the chives to dry some. I garden in raised beds placed under a poly tunnel. No rows just patches of future plants arranged sometimes by color. Literally. I am an artist you know. And I have planted carnival carrots and rainbow chard and red Romaine lettuce. It is extensive planting. Every available space taken up to discourage weeds. And so it fits under my poly tunnel. I gar

The joke I used to tell was that when I entered college I was 80 and when I left about 20. I was Miss Goody Twoshoes during high school because my mother was sick, my father not coping that well, and I had a little sister to look after. Mother, in her infinite wisdom made me turn down a math scholarship to an "away" college and enrolled me in UNM because she didn't think I was adult enough. At which time fate stepped in and promoted my father to a job in Denver. His joke was they could not get me to run away from home so they ran away from me. It was the wild and crazy '60's and after a very strict upbringing I turned pirate. I had three rules that stood me well: 1) do not get pregnant, 2) get your bachelor's and not your MRS degree, and 3) do not get arrested. The last may have been just luck but I worked hard on the other two. If the 60's were insane the 70's were even wilder. I had the bachelor's degree, the pill and the number one status

Will it rain? It has been a busy week but one rather without focus, and so when I paused this morning to contemplate my weekly blog I had to revert to an old trick which was to look back at the week past photographs.  They remind me of where I was and what I was doing. I was definitely watching the weather. No, this blog is not about clouds as last week. It is more about watchfulness or expectancy -- will it rain? Will it freeze? How well will the polytunnel do this spring? When should I plant the tomatoes outside? My attention was divided between a friend's health, new fronds on the Sego Palm, waiting for acceptances on exhibits, Mardi's adaptation to new diet, what to do about the destroyed garden shed, whether to build a new one. The list is long. Tomatoes in tunnel tepee Sego Palm's new fronds Cleaning up mess of exploded garden shed All my friends think I do so much but I have to admit to just staring at things this week. Yes, I got the drip irr

Awaiting the rain by J. Binford-Bell To call forth the rain you must first create  the clouds. J. Binford-Bell Nothing may be quite as boring to a photographer as a clear blue sky. A clear sky shows no promise of a great dawn or spectacular sunset or flashes of lightning. So this week when we finally had clouds I left my house early with my camera and a mission to record them before the sun made them vanish. Or it rained. I was hoping for the rain. We are all hoping for the rain. But to have rain you must first have clouds. The humidity level needs to get out of the single digits so any rain that falls from the clouds reaches the parched earth. Rain in the distance by J. Binford-Bell There is an expectancy about clouds and rain in the distance. And a sense of unreleased tension which is almost electric. Just rain. Really rain you want to scream. Give me lightning and thunder and the pounding of rain on the metal roof so I can sleep. It was that sort of

Teeth of Time by J. Binford-Bell I drove to Raton again on May 1st and it was a dazzling spring day. But it was clearly evident, if by spring we mean the bursting forth of buds and flowers, that spring was very late. Delayed by cold or drought? Or are our definitions getting in the way? Time as we mark it on calendars is arbitrary. There have been many changes in calendars that have governed our lives, and by the Mayan Calendar, some say, we should not be here. Spring or the lack there of and a recent experiences in Raton and Trinidad had gotten me thinking about definitions, and boundaries, and divisions. I had just picked up my paintings from the New Mexico Women Artists Show in Raton. The Old Pass Gallery it seems wants to put the focus back on local artists. And that got me thinking of the definition of the adjective Local. How would you define it? One source says "Belonging or relating to a particular area or neighborhood, typically exclusively so . . ." This le