Sidetracked Charley

Calf Canyon/Kermits Peak Breathing   I am home now. That does not mean the fire which chased me away is out. There are times I think I can hear it breathe. I know where it lives. Where it sleeps when the winds are still. I watch the horizons in the morning as the winds begin to pick up. Every white puff in the sky gets queried. Are you a cloud? Or smoke. Forest fires lie down at night but they are alive in the pine needles covering the forest floor. Alive in the huge log emerging from the melting snow. And alive in the roots of the burned spar above the snow. All it takes is wind to bring them out of hiding and wake up the fire. We have had a quiet few days but the Fire Weather begins again today. A forest fire is not like a house fire on your street. It cannot be drowned out with a pumper full of water. It isn't easily surrounded and watched. The perimeter of the Calf Canyon and Kermits Peak Fire is 600 miles. It covers portions of five counties. It has compromised several state r...

So many improvements and memories. So many losses. This the deck I built and standing on it is Magique who I lost. The lost pets are many. Google and Facebook remind me constantly. Some memories are good. Some so sad. I was just beginning this gardening year when the fire began on Kermit Peak. It was to be my second vrbo year and but beginning slowly. I was happy to have ample time to work on the gardens when Mora was evacuated. I invited homeless friends to stay in the empty rental. A frolic. Soon they would be able to go back home. Two weeks later I was ordered to evacuate. Kate had asked how long before she could go home and I didn't know. I did not know how long before I got to go home. I had a place to go. To stay with a friend in a near by town. It would be a lark. Soon I would be back here in my home of 30 years of memories. Today it hit me it would be more than a weekend when I had to fill out a temporary change of address. Suddenly I was discussing all the truly difficult ...

I live in rural America. And I love it here. I even most times love what I do not have because I choose to live outside cities. But some of the things I do not have cause problems defining where I live. I do not have a zip code. I borrow neighboring zip codes depending on who is asking. In the United States of America a zip code is five or nine numbers that are added to a postal address to assist the sorting of mail. There are about 43,000 zip codes. They are attached to post offices which the USPS wants to reduce. Post Offices are attached largely to cities these days. Once Black Lake had a post office and our zip code I am told was 87734. But the USPS deleted that post office because there was no city but just a large rural area with farms and ranches and people like myself which loved living in rural areas.  When the Black Lake post office was closed the zip code was moved to Ocate, NM which is over the mountain and through the canyon and most notably in an entire other county. ...

Supposedly I am on the last lap of having my apartment ready for short term rental. I had a goal of being ready to take guests on the 1st of April. And per advice attempted a listing on AirBnB as of the 15th of March. Best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry. "To a Mouse" by Robert Burns.  After days of building my listing it still insisted it was in Taos, New Mexico. And nothing I could do got the attention of the site managers. Would have been frustrating enough without going through another virtual battle with Lowe's Building site to get a reasonably priced washer and dryer delivered. And then the plumbing issue. And Amazon failed me with their two day delivery schedule going to nine days on the little amenities required to please guests. Oh, did I mention the succession of snow storms. Whatever snow we didn't see in "real winter" we got shoved into a couple weeks in just before spring and after. I truly harbored thoughts of admitting this was stu...

Stand up I went to a Carson National Forest Planning meeting yesterday. I confess it has been a long time since I participated in this sort of meeting. Twenty-Five years ago I was deeply involved in saving our forests from clear cutting by logging companies. I lived in Questa and the logging trucks roared down our rural road. One day the brakes failed on one and it tumbled over into my front yard. There is nothing like that to wake you up to where the trucks were coming from and if they even should be on our road. The election of Donald Trump is a bit like that logging truck. It had no brakes, it was suppose to be taking the logs out by another route which was not lined with houses, he was driving too fast. And as it turned out he was clear cutting an area of the forest when his contract said specifically he was suppose to be leaving old growth islands. It was all about making the most money with the minimum amount of effort. I joined an organization called Carson Watch and we w...

Reflections in a Still Pond July, friends and I at a Chamber of Commerce event were noting, is entirely too busy. And once, I am told, nothing other than the 4th happened in July in Angel Fire. And we were not the community which had parades or fund raisers for the fire department or set off the fireworks. Those were Red River, Wheeler Peak, and Eagle Nest. So an effort was made to fill the calendar. I do believe we have created a monster. It was only the 22nd, just after the garden tour, and those of us making our command appearances at the ribbon cutting for the newest Texas owned business in our New Mexico mountain town were already looking all in. Nine more days to go. This weekend is the High Country Arts and Crafts Fair in Eagle Nest. Some of us will no doubt attend. I am staying home. And I confess I did not do the garden tour either. I was tending to my own garden. And celebrating my new camera. And culling through emails requesting my involvement at events into Septembe...

There is nothing like windshield time to allow you time to think about nothing really. And that is good because we live in a too busy world with too many talking heads telling us what to think about; what to fear. My father, who was first a pilot and then a traveling salesman, used to talk to me about the nothingness between point A and B, whether those were airports, military bases, or cities along the empty highways of the southwest. There is a lot I can tell you about the road to Raton. It is divided almost in half between canyon through the mountains and wide open high plains. I have taken the road enough times because of art deliveries or pickups, court cases (Raton is the county seat), seeking the sometimes elusive bison, or photography treks, that I know where the turns are, what the next mile marker will say, the speed limit changes, and where the bison just might be. I always allow two and half hours for the trip. This is an allowance I make for those bison which just ...

Vietnam Veterans Memorial Chapel I was one of the generation which found the rituals of our parents no longer valid. We are the Vietnam Generation. How sad our lives should be defined by a war. Some of us went to war and some of us went to war against war. A lot of us in our way questioned the older generation and its wars and rituals. And now we are that older generation. Many of those who fought in Vietnam and survived their tours of duty are now dying because of exposure to Agent Orange. It is bringing us all to places we thought in our youth we would never be. Friends and clouds gathering We celebrated the life of Steven Ryan Oliver on what would have been his birthday. Steve would have been the first to tell you he did not want a funeral. He was a Buddhist and a Vietnam Veteran. No doubt he faced the possibility of a death in a nameless jungle in a country we all did not know existed until our friends started vanishing into it. Just another missing in action. But he ret...