Dreaming of a Pink Christmas

Well, this holiday season, I did something I always said I'd never do: I bought an artificial tree. Usually, my tradition is to get an inexpensive Charlie Brown-er and deck the house with natural greens I harvest from outside. I love the ritual of hanging the greens and how it makes the house smell. Plus, I like being part of such an ancient tradition. But this year, I caved. I mean, how many opportunities are there to buy a Christmas tree made entirely of pink feathers? Tommy and I thought it looked great with our purple and green Christmas tree balls and his Homer Simpson ornament. Later this week, we're gonna build a gingerbread house, which I think might complement the cotton-candy look of the tree quite nicely.



Here's a shot of Daisy and me by the tree.
(All photos by Tommy.)

First Snow

Last night, we got the first snow of winter. This morning, Tommy got up and took photos while I got ready for work.


Admittedly, I got a little grumpy when he photographed me scooping snow off the car instead of actually helping. Incidentally, this became the last snow picture taken this morning. . . but then he lovingly helped me scrape the car windows while I grumpified. (He demanded I add that last part.)

Anyhow, at 9:14 pm, the stuff is still comin' down. If the state of New Mexico is closed due to inclement weather tomorrow, you may just see some more snow photos. ;)

Re-enactment of the First Thanksgiving

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Tommy's family dressed up like Indians and danced around the table in a ceremonial celebration for the feast. Tommy played his flutes while wearing a loincloth around his neck (should have been a little lower.) His father sang traditional Johnny Cash chants. My family dressed up like pilgrims. (It was funny to see Corey in a bonnet and dress.) At first we were afraid and rounded up the wagons. Then we realized the savages were throwing corn cobs instead of arrows. So we decided to put the cobs in a pot and thus the feast began.


But seriously, this is how the day really looked. (Note Tommy, Mom, and Fil in the mirror.)


As we prepared our feast, from some deep valley in the mountains came wandering this fearsome wolf. As it smelled the turkey roasting, saliva dripped from her fangs. Snarling and growling she proceeded into our camp. Tommy, with his magical flute calmed the beast and taught her how to roll over. Thus, a new spirit had entered our community.


This is food prepared from the original recipes of that first Thanksgiving feast. Note the red chile enchiladas, a dish indigenous to New England.

Sugar Pie

Once upon a time, more than 10 years ago, I went over to my Grandma Lois's house to find her tending to a pan of something orange on the stove. It was a crisp autumn day, and with a grin, she explained that she was cooking pumpkin for a pie. "This is how Mama used to do it," she said, referring to my great grandmother, Lily May Winger. "And I just got a notion that I wanted to do it." She told me she wasn't really sure what she was doing, but she bought the pumpkin anyway, and memory seemed to guide her. Years later, I'm missing Grandma Lois, and a few weeks ago, I got the notion myself that I'd like to cook some pumpkin. I don't know what I'm doing, of course, but if all goes well, we should have a heck of a pumpkin pie come Thursday.


This, my friends, is a certified organic Sugar Pie pumpkin. It's supposed to be for baking. I bought it at the Santa Fe Farmer's Market.


Compared to a jack-o-lantern pumpkin, it's smaller and has fewer seeds.


Dang that rind was tough! (I skinned a knuckle cutting it up.) This is probably why someone once decided canned pumpkin would be a lot easier.


The pumpkin is now simmering on my stove. Stay tuned for the next exciting installment, in which I bake a Thanksgiving pie.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Tommy's paintings are now showing at our home-away-from-home, Santa Fe Baking Comany, at 504 W. Cordova Road. Personally, I think the artwork looks pretty cool on their bright yellow walls, and I REALLY felt at home there this morning as I ate my burrito combo since these paintings normally hang in our house. To top it off, we ran into our friends David and Marci and their toddler, Finn; fellow artist Stan; our ever-fashionable friend Stevie; and buddy Brian, who promised to take us out for pizza tonight. Then, to cap off a perfectly wonderful morning, we walked home in the New Mexico sun.

Punkin' Heads

Sunday night, our buddies Kate and Paul came over, and the four of us carved jack-o-lanterns. We scooped out the goo, we toasted pumpkin seeds, and we ate pumpkin cake Kate brought--all while kinda-sorta watching Bram Stoker's Dracula. Anyhow, we were proud of the results. Paul used a creative sideways design so that his pumpkin's stem became the jack-o-lantern's nose. I used the Pumpkin Master's pattern "zombie", though in the end, we agreed the face looked more like Che Guevara. Kate used the "skeleton" pattern, though finished the image more closely resembled Bender from Futurama. (Even better.) And Tommy used a skull motif of his own design (you're not surprised, are you?) Anyhow, the pumpkins are blazing away right now. Happy Halloween!

A Day's Work

Behold, I have planted the iris bed! After culling together several different gardeners' on-line how-tos, I settled on a technique (clumping the rhizomes in threes) and then adapted their instructions for what I thought might be appropriate for a high-desert climate. (For example, I don't think there's any way over-watering will be an issue for us.) And I wanted them to be in a round mound, dammit. So I did that, too.

It was a gorgeous fall day today, and I managed to get us some pumpkins to carve this weekend when I was out picking up the gardening supplies I needed. There's still quite a bit going on in the garden considering it's late October, but my sunflower-sowing plans are foiled. You see, I had planned on saving my own seeds and scattering them around the property for a Van Gogh-like effect (sunflowers and iris--geddit?) but the birds beat me to it. All the sunflower seeds have been claimed as bird chow. Nevertheless, here's what a sunflower looks like stripped of its seeds. It's strangely beautiful, really.



Oh, and while I was digging around outside anyway, I decided it wouldn't be much more effort to water all 16 of the fruit trees. Yeah, right. Now I'm totally pooped--but happy in that job-well-done kinda way.

Holiday at Home

Mom and Corey visited me last week, and I barely took any photos the whole time! Oh well, there's a time to document stuff and a time to just participate in your own life. We had a fun time. Here's a picture of my three favorite people at Tommy's store, Peruvian Connection:

Purple Haze

Our yard is awash in hardy, albeit very old, purple iris plants. The leaves are perennial enough, but each year, we're thrilled if we see one or two blooms. Iris are supposed to be thinned every year, and my guess is these haven't been thinned in at least 12--when our house was added to the compound. Anyhow, my grandma Majorie planted many purple (and yellow) iris around the home place when she was a young woman raising a family there, and they continued to bloom once my Dad was grown raising his own family there. Purple iris always remind me of Grandma, home, and our family. So I want to do the plants justice, and I feel fairly confident that with some thinning and fertilizing, I can get these suckers to thrive. If you care to visualize along with me, come May we'll see about a dozen white-bloomed apple trees in the yard, scattered among them, a handful and peach and apricot trees with their pink blossoms, and on the ground, round beds of purple iris.

The first step was to simply dig up most of the rhizomes so they can be relocated to new beds where black soil and bone meal await them. ("Yummy, yummy" say the starved plants.)


Here I am last Sunday just beginning the task, feeling confidence and enthusiasm.


The work seems easy enough as I start to fill my bucket.


By this time, my shoulders are hurting a lot more than I thought they would.


Now, I have to trim the excess leaves off the rhizomes and prepare them for re-planting.

After the weekend was over, this turned out to be my weekly horoscope:

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): "What is Great Purple?" asks Japanese poet Nanao Sakaki in his book *Let's Eat Stars.* Is it "a piece of purple sky floating in my lover's eyes?" he speculates. "A cloud made of purple wine passing over Mt. Fuji? The color of a full-blooming magnolia's root? The shadow of a star visible only to birds? The light of the last water you drink?" I invite you, Aquarius, to brainstorm your own answers to the question "What is Great Purple?" According to my reading of the astrological omens, you now have a special relationship not only with plain old everyday purple, but with sublime, magnificent, life-changing PURPLE. It's a perfect moment to develop a closer relationship with whatever Great Purple means to you.

Well I certainly know what the Great Purple means to me. Stay tuned. This weekend, I'll plant the rhizomes in their new homes.

A Walk Through Tent Rocks

Yesterday, I drove out to Cochiti Pueblo with my friends Paul and Cassin, and we hiked Tent Rocks. It's at times like this that I wish I had paid more attention to the eighth grade geology teacher we christened Stale Dale. (You Maryvillians know what I'm talking about.) But I was 14, and how could I think about crap like rock formations when there was important stuff on my mind like Simon Le Bon? Anyway, I wish I could bestow some sophisticated knowledge upon you and explain how these Dr. Seuss-like hills were formed, but I can't.

There's also a slot canyon there, and it's cool and intriguing to wind around the bottom of it. This summer's generous rains meant there was more vegetation than other times I'd been there, and this odd bush with a delicate yellow flower created the scent of honeysuckle mixed with vanilla in the early evening air.

My photos don't really do it justice, but enjoy!



Paul walks ahead while Cassin and I look at these funky tree roots.



Paul notes that perhaps a fourth Indiana Jones movie should be filmed here.



Cassin meanders through the slot canyon.



View from the end of the trail.

Deep Cleaning in Hell

Ever wonder, if there is a hell, who's there? Nixon? Naw, not quite bad enough. Hitler? Yeah. Idi Amin? Probably. The inventors of white carpeting? Definitely.

Much as we love our house, it has 12-year-old white carpeting in the bedrooms. This was not a smart choice. We have a gravel driveway and a "lawn" that incorporates large patches of light brown dust. So it isn't surprising the carpet doesn't stay clean. What's more, the carpet has stains. Stains that aren't ours. Stains that are probably cocoa cola, but when my imagination runs wild are actually the fermented blood stains of an innocent high-school girl who was murdered here on a dark and stormy night. Or worse--dog poo.

So yesterday, the carpet cleaner guy came. Kindly, our landlords pay for this. We are grateful, but we still have to empty the bedroom and Tommy's music room of their contents. Then, we shove all that stuff in the living room, where we stumble around piles of crap that look like a garage sale gone bad as we try to go about our lives normally and wait for the carpets to dry.

Needless to say--lots of gruntwork yesterday. And then I went on a hike with my friends Paul and Cassin. Then this morning, I taught my Body Pump class. And I wonder why I'm tired.


Anyhow, the bedroom is as clean as a room at Motel 6 now, and we are very, very happy.

Autumnal Equinox

So day and night were of equal length this Saturday. From here on out, the days grow shorter. It's a time that marks the coming of winter and the harvest, so I really wanted to make sure we went to the Santa Fe Farmer's Market Saturday morning. It was a crisp, blustery day. We saw lots and lots of apples, pumpkins, gourds, and of course, chile. They were roasting green chile at three different stands, and the air was thick with it. Later that day, things warmed up, and we went to an outdoor wedding at the Randall Davey Audubon Center. (It was Tommy's bandmate in the Unborn Soul, Mike Tait. You can check them out on My Space.) After the ceremony, Tommy and I took some time out to stroll around with the camera, and he got some great shots.


Tommy at the Farmer's Market, where someone was selling Dream Catchers made of salt cedar.


This baby liked to watch the chile roaster go round and round.


Lots of musicians were playing at the market.


Look close (or maybe, enlarge) to see the hummingbird in the background.


The birdseed bandit.

Daisy in Disguise

For those of you who don't live in Santa Fe, John Cougar has continued his world tour. That is to say, there has been another siting in which our mountain lion was seen eating a chicken in broad daylight in a public rose garden a few blocks from our house. Honestly, I'm not sure which is weirder: a mountain lion in a rose garden, or the fact that apparently, someone in central Santa Fe has a hen house. Anyway, recent events have been hard on Rushing River, Placid Lagoon, and our hairy child Daisy, who is no longer allowed to go outside without adult supervision, lest she become a chihuahua McNugget. This has been going on for weeks now, and our little dog is getting stir crazy. Luckily my friend Linda suggested camouflage of the kind that is respected in the animal kingdom: We disguise her as a skunk. She's the perfect size. And THAT should make old John Cougar think twice about attacking her. The costume is still in the works, but fortunately, the Placid Lagoon has illustrated the Stealth Chihuahua Camouflage Costume.

Our Twilight Year

Well, we're about to sign a new, one-year lease. This is good because we were living here month-to-month and could be evicted upon sale of the property. This is bad because it means it's our last year here. I'm looking forward to it in a way. A year to plan for another home, whatever or wherever it may be.

One more year for this to still be our front door. Overall, I feel peaceful about it, like I did in the dream.

Sunday in Chimayo

Sunday, we jaunted up the road to Chimayo. We made a brief visit to the Santuario and said some prayers for Tommy's mother. She's having some health problems and undergoing tests--for leukemia, among other things. We took a nice stroll and took some photos.


Later that day, Tommy played his flute at a wedding held at Rancho de Chimayo. It's a beautiful property with a massive restaurant and a bed and breakfast. I had never been there before. It was lovely and we pledged to go back soon.

Awakening

Since my last post about the sale of the place we call home, I had a wonderful dream. I dreamt it was a golden autumn afternoon and almost time to go home from work. I was chatting with my co-worker, Barbara, and asked her if she wanted to come home with me for some cocoa or something. She agreed, and we walked to our house. Strangely (aren't dreams always like this?) I lived there, though I had never been there before. Or maybe my dream self had been there, but the whole thing was new to my waking self. Anyway, apparently, Tommy and I had a beautiful home on the edge of a forest that was ablaze with yellow autumn leaves. Inside, it was opulent and homey at the same time. Lush rugs, thick upholstry, warm light. There was even this entertainment center that looked more like a giant apothecary's chest (with a TV), and I had the sense that all its little drawers and cubbies were filled with treasures and surprises. I woke up feeling totally fine about the house thing, and that the best was yet to come.

Life is Amazing

Look at this sunflower slowly unfurling. Even when it's hard, life is amazing.

Our Threatened Habitat

Tommy, Bob, Liz, Juan, and I got word on Tuesday that the compound where we all live is officially for sale. For those of you who don't live in crazy boomtowns, what this means is, most likely, someone will buy these four continuous lots in a good neighborhood, level everything, and build condos. (Pictured above is our humble abode, but there are two other houses on the property. You can just barely see the entrance to unit B behind our place.) Sigh. Bummer. We really like it here, and we've enjoyed being little guardians of the earth what with tending all the apple trees and growing sunflowers and herbs. No wonder the landlord was so amenable to our suggestion of putting in new laminate flooring. . .

I'm just beginning to get over the emotional turmoil of it all. Moving. Again. In our future. Dammit. Tuesday night, Tommy and I agreed that it didn't really bother us, that we'd be okay of course--and then neither of us could sleep a wink.

Worst case scenario is that we'll sign a new lease very soon. That way, even the new owner has to honor it for a year, which buys us time to find new digs. Also, I've resolved that it's time for me to confront my fears, look at my credit rating, and take a homebuying class. It's time. Even though the thought of buying a home petrifies me, it's the only thing that makes sense. I keep telling myself that the worst that could happen is that I'd find out that my finances are so bad, I couldn't buy a place for 10 years or more, but still I'd know what I needed to do.

I confess, I'm intimidated. The median housing cost in this city is $439,000. That's a lot for little 'ol me. But it ain't over 'til it's over.

Maybe We Should Name Him John

Ah, another fabulous weekend in Santa Fe. This Saturday, our neighbors Juan and Liz, who live at 1022 B Don Diego Avenue, came home from an errand to find a cougar in their front yard (read: our back yard) devouring a small animal. When the mountain lion saw them, it hissed, jumped over a six-foot high wall, and disappeared. Needless to say, we've been a bit antsy around the compound lately. That same evening, Bob (our other neighbor) swears he heard a thump on his roof "heavy enough to be a man" and actually went outside to check it out because he thought some teens might be goofing around or something. Meantime, this story ran in the Albuquerque Journal North today

Cougar Ate My Cat, Owner Says

By John Arnold
Journal Staff Writer
Suzanne Getz does a lot of hiking, but she had never seen a mountain lion until Saturday morning.
And the lion wasn't on a mountain trail.
Getz was sitting in front of her Lomita Street home in Santa Fe's South Capitol neighborhood when she noticed what she believes was a mountain lion lying down at the edge of her yard.
"I know when I was looking at him, he was looking at me too," Getz said. "I was thinking, 'Wow, his head is really big.' ''
More surprising than the cat's size, however, was the prey in its paws— a neighbor's much smaller cat named Charlie that had been sunbathing in a nearby yard.
After seeing Getz, the mountain lion "got up, picked up the cat and took off," Getz said. "I don't think I had time to really be afraid."
Getz ran across the street and alerted Charlie's owner, Nicole Martel, that her pet had been killed. Martel said she left her house and joined some other neighbors gathered at the end of the street, where the mountain lion was hiding in some bushes.
"And all of a sudden his face peeked out with my little guy in his mouth," Martel said. The mountain lion climbed a 6-foot wall "like it was nothing" and fled.

Yep, that sounds like our John. And Lomita Street is only a couple blocks away. I called New Mexico Game and Fish, but didn't get a response.

Oh, and P.S. the photo isn't of the real John. Personally, I never saw him. This is just a random shot I lifted from somebody else's blog! You know, the stunt-double John.

Goldilocks? Red Riding Hood? Hansel? Gretel? Anyone?

Not long ago, I took this photo on a hike in the Santa Fe National Forest a few miles from our home. We've had heavy rains here, and the the forest is so green and lush, it was like the beginning of every fairy tale I ever loved. However, I didn't run into any bears or big, bad wolves. Just a couple deer. And a chipmunk.

Ah, August.

As amateur gardeners, we're thrilled with all the sunflowers we have in our garden right now. More to come!

A Day's Work

Tommy and Jay Hester pose by the almost-finished portrait after a day of painting and posing at Mountain Trails Gallery. (In Santa Fe's old days, Jay used to paint portraits at the Bull Ring while patrons looked on.) On this night, Tommy and I were certainly ready to head to The Cowgirl for an O'Doul's (his) and a frozen marg (mine) with our buffalo burgers.

Tommy's Music Becomes Art at Indian Market

We had fun on Indian Market Weekend two weekends ago. Tommy wore traditional dress and played his flute at Mountain Trails Gallery while Western artist Jay Hester painted his portrait. Tommy's CD, Council of the Crow, is available there. He and Jay agreed that the finished portrait just might be the cover of his next CD. Meantime, I had fun snapping pictures and drinking margaritas with Jay's wife, Judy. It was a very energetic opening. We got home around 9 pm, but it felt more like 3 am!