Sidetracked Charley

It is that time again. Time to move in the plants that were moved out this spring and try to find them space for the winter after a summer of new growth. This is usually a multi-stepped process. First the move in to any space reasonably out of the way. And then everything which lives all year in the studio gets moved around to make room. If you are looking for a well taken care of house plant now is the time to approach me, because not only did the indoor/outdoor group grow but the totally indoor group did too. In fact this was an epic year for some of my euphorbias - repotting and separating out babies from mother plants. And then there is the rosemary plant. I have a friend who grew hers outside all year around up here. Never quite worked for me so the last attempt at raising rosemary became and indoor/outdoor. That was three years ago. It is getting bigger. And every year about this time I wonder if it is big enough to be an outside plant. I seem not willing to risk it because

Buffalo on the Vermejo Park Ranch The herd which was close to the highway was about 47 to 50 in number and included several of this year's calves. Needless to say we were going for the up close and personal photographs. Aunts and Calf And there really was no end of opportunities. The grass was long and lush and the bison all had their heads down. The calves were curious and edged closer to the fence and the adults almost unconsciously covered them. The entire herd comprise of adult females takes care of the calves. It was very interesting to watch. The Gang of three We got so engrossed in the herd by the fence we did not notice at first another herd moving into the area in the distance. Herd Two in the distance Herd Three coming through the pass Off with the long lens and on with the wide angle. I walked back to the car to get my second camera already set up with the wide angle. Jessica Duke and Equipment Management Jessica's High Country Photog

Chamisa Blooming There is something about the open plains and a totally straight line of highway for mile after mile which frees the mind to think. On this trip back from Trinidad I was thinking of so many other trips across the plains in the last few years and the difference rain can make. I want to use the word lush but so many in the east will not understand that used in this context. The grass, already beginning to go gold because of night temperatures looked so thick and so long in spots you almost felt it would be difficult to walk through. And indeed a lot of the locals were not walking. One of this herd of buffalo got up when I walked (waded) to the fence line. The grass was up to my knees and almost up to their bellies. They definitely looked well fed. Buffalo on the Vermejo Park Ranch Even the post rut Pronghorn Antelope were too stuffed to move much. A rather nervous animal in the best of times this one even allowed me to get out of my truck to get a better a

Communication was easy once. Besides what was there to talk about? You walked up to another person and either threw down your club or threw it at their head. But as times went by it got a bit more complicated. "Honey, I told you to fix the stairs." "Yep," "So you going to do it?" "Not inclined to." And so with the introduction of the mother-in-law was born the third party negotiator. I did not say necessarily independent. Everyone has a dog in the hunt. King Arthur introduced the concept of the shape of the table. Have you ever followed one of those openings to peace or truce negotiations? Weeks can be spent on the shape of the table. You could argue they are not fighting during that time if the third party made a truce part of the prelude to the shape of the table. There are not that many shapes. Could we just universally decide on round and go from there? Which brings us to language. Sometimes this is why the war began. And th

I have several friends who bring up their bucket list from time to time. The movie certainly made the idea of a list of adventures before you die popular. My parents had such a list. They managed to snowbird a couple winters before Dad died. And my sister and I took Mom to Cozumel and Toronto (twice), and out to eat at a Chinese restaurant before she died. I was on one of those career paths mandated for my generation at the time I became an orphan. My redneck period my friends called it. I even owned my own bowling ball. I dressed for success with a nod to wilder than accepted earrings. I considered the blazer and blouse my costume and the earrings my bit of rebellion. The bowling ball was a prescription for perfectionism mandated by a psychologist I was going to for bulimia. I no long want to return to 103. And I no longer bowl after I broke 100 once or twice. Before the redneck period I had been a lobbyist in Washington, DC (for would you believe? The American Council of Chur

My mother was First Christian. Dad had been raised Catholic and then, as he would put it when the conversation came around to religion, went to war. In my formative years I went to base chapels and then turned to philosophy. I believe. I just refuse to limit that belief. In college I discovered Reciprocity as a construct of social psychology .  And if I have a belief system which guides my life that is it. That has had a major impact on my life because I fail to understand those that condemn or restrict or declare without latitude. I have continued to study the history of  religions because it is within religions you most often see a rigid condemnation of others. Religionists are your zealots, your fundamentalists,  your condemners of all who do not believe as they do. Religionists have nothing to do with faith or spirituality and often are counter to good moral practice. I find them very scary whether base of worship is Islam or Christianity. I find them scary because they fee

We have a local thrift store run by a Christian ministry. The money they make from their thrift store sales goes to help local families in need and several charities their faith supports. There are one or two on their posted list I cannot in all honesty wholeheartedly support but their good outweighs their bad on my scales. At least until today. In fact I have always seen a trip to the Attic is a positive point in the week. You always run into friends. The prices are always amazingly cheap. The merchandise very good because so many of our citizens donate their clothing and house goods to the charity. A fun time is usually had by all. Casually shopping I picked out two very nice shirts which run $1.50 each. Looked at quilts and comforters which I use as dog beds. And through kitchen wares. I at last wound up in purses. The locals seem to favor a very nice quality of purse and surrender them for resale with just a minimum of wear. Sometimes no wear at all. I found a lovely purse

Reflections on the Rio Grande September is my favorite month. Always has been. Even in those dreaded days of my youth when it meant going back to school and all the teasing and not fitting in. September meant, more than any other month, new beginnings. In school it was new subjects, possibly new friends, definitely new books, and new clothes. I really love September. It smells wonderful. So fresh. And every day there will be oh, so subtle changes as vegetables ripen and foliage begins to turn, and flower petals fall and reveal seed cases of fascinating shapes. Fresh flowers I have left outside all summer long. Dried grasses and seed pods and dried flowers I will cut and bring inside to fill all manner of containers. And I will collect the seeds; the promise of a new spring. Fall reaches its culmination in October with the harvest but September is the beginning of the fall. Spring is the promise and September is the glory of that promise. And yet there is always this bi