Lotus Eaters

Today, Tommy and I ventured out of Santa Fe to the village of Los Ranchos (on the Rio Grande near Albuquerque) to attend the annual Lavender Festival. Honestly, I was a bit more excited about it than he was, and had visions of us romping admidst the heady scent of purple fields (cue sappy music here) the likes of which one rarely sees outside Provence.

The coolest part of the fest takes place at an organic farm called Los Pablanos, which is at the end of a lane shaded by massive cottonwoods. Once we go there, we were surrounded by lots of folks in shorts, sandals, and straw hats, and I overheard a couple people say something about the lotus pond. Naturally, I was expecting a cute little koi pond, and since I love the lotus and its symbolism (transcendence, enlightenment, beauty) I wanted to make sure I didn't miss it. . . and then. . .



OH MY GOD!

How could I possibly miss it? Because there, to my left was a swampy area the size of a Missouri farm pond teeming with pink and white blossoms and round green leaves the size of platters. It was unbelievable, and for minutes, I just stared, convinced this was a dream. Lotuses? In the desert? Where is this? Egypt? And then I got overly excited because I remembered one of the final scenes from of my favorite childhood books, Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C.S. Lewis wherein our protagonists sail a ship to The Very End of the World, and when they get there, the water grows calm and there are only lotuses as far as the eye can see.

I was talking about this when Tommy told me to lower my voice a little. Anyhow, it was utterly mystifiying and we took quite a few photos.




Law of the universe: where there are lotuses, there are dragonflies.


Hope me standing here gives it a sense of scale.

Of course, we got to see the lavender fields, too, and they were every bit as lovely as I had hoped.



And we got a passerby to take a photo of us. (Please note Tommy's little chicken legs, but very stylish hat.)



Even though the car's air conditioning went kaput on the drive there, all in all, it was a good day.

Summer Rain

This evening after work, I had big plans to go on a brisk exercise walk and work in the garden. Only it rained and rained, so I'm inside blogging instead. So far, summer has blessed us with rain at least once a week, and I can't believe how green everything looks in these photos. (Click the above photo so see it full-size on your screen. It's beautiful.)

Life is good for Tommy and me. He started a new job last week, and it's going well. Other than that, this seems to be one of those time periods where a lot of plans and ideas are incubating, but nothing is really sprouting yet--except in the garden.



Some volunteer plants of some kind have sprung up around the Buddah. I think they might be alliums--which is awesome, because my Grandma Marjorie used to grow them in her garden. As for deliberate gardening plans, I sowed seeds of two kinds of sunflowers, plus morning glories and (cross your fingers) moonflowers. The latter were described on the seed packet as "slow to start" (oh goody), but I took the risk anyway. If they actually grow, I'll have vines of white flowers that only open at night. How cool is that?

If it were to stop raining, our yard might actually look like this picture I took last week:



Lately, since I've just finished reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for the umpteenth time in preparation for next month's Deathly Hallows, I've taken to sitting in the garden reading my other favorite book: The Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells. Uh-huh real spells. Most of 'em cast with herbs and other garden goodies. I'm havin' fun, I'll tell ya. I'm becoming a regular Professor Sprout. Funny, I always saw myself as more of a Hermione Granger type. . . .

Anyway, just because I love it, here's a gorgeous photo Tommy took last week as your parting shot:

Abiquiu Afternoon

A few weeks ago, I had to drive north to Chama for work. Tommy came with, and on the way home, we stopped in one of our favorite places, Abiquiu. This is the place O'Keeffe called "my country," and before you is El Cerro Pedernal, which she painted again and again. It had just rained when we were there, so the the wet red rocks were extra vivid, and the horizon darker blue. And the smell--high desert after a rain. Ahhh. . . the purest, best smell in the world.



Tommy had his eagle bone whistle with him, so he played an impromptu tune. I actually made a mini movie of it, so maybe someday I'll figure out how to load it to this blog. He stood at the edge of the Echo Ampitheater (below) so the flute sounds echoed through the countryside along with bird calls. It was a good day.

Blognesia

Yep, it's a disease I have. I go out, I do something neat, I take photos of it, I think about how I'll put this on our blog, and then I forget that I didn't actually post it. Oh. Logged in a couple days ago and realized that I hadn't posted since Easter. So, I'll try to catch up.



For starters, spring arrived in our little corner of the world, even though it snowed on May 5. Not that I'm complaining exactly. The fact that we had abundant snowfall last winter ensured that our apple trees were heavy with blossoms.



Ahh. . . this is why we have our Mama and Papa chairs in the yard. Remember being a kid and seeing old couples sitting in their yards or on their porches? Just sitting there? No TV on or nothin'? Makes more sense to me now. . .



This is where gardening is a metaphor for life. Remember when I transplanted buckets of iris last fall? Well, those look like utter crap. However, the iris I left alone because I was just too tired from all the transplanting are doing great because I effectively "thinned" them by moving their brothers and sisters elsewhere. Such is life. Sometimes stuff you work on doesn't turn out like you planned. However, there are lovely surprises.

Easter Memories

Well, it's exactly five days after Easter Sunday. And it snowed. Buckets. Actually, there's nothing on the ground here in Santa Fe. It looks more like we just had a heavy rain. The mountains, however, are completely white. All the more important then, that we savor last Saturday night's rite of spring. Our buds Kate and Paul came over (above) and we made an Easter tree like we used to when I was a kid.

Before they arrived, Tommy and I went outside to pick an appropriate branch. He wanted one that was perfectly proportioned but dead. I wanted a live one from the peach tree with its fragrant pink blooms. I persevered, and won the argument, but when we brought the thing into the house, it set off my allergies and I was sneezing so much I couldn't enjoy our guests. So I took a Benedryl. And got really drowsy. And stopped caring about anything. Then Paul drank some beer and got as lethargic as me. Luckily Kate and Tommy plowed through (as seen below).



Briefly, we talked about Easter's roots as a fertility ritual, hence the eggs and bunnies.


So, Tommy made some fertility interpretations of his own. Yep kids, it's the Easter Sperm.


Tommy's huevos.


Paul drinks beer on the Easter couch.

A Week In the Northwest, Part II

After the conference was over, Mom and Corey headed home, and the two of us went north to visit buddies Sheila and Pablo in Vancouver. (Tommy took this photo of them in front of the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia.)


Inside, we loved seeing the totems and other Native art. (When we got home, we also discovered the museum is one of the settings for the cheesy sci-fi flick, Alone in the Dark, with Christian Slater. Part of our permanent DVD collection.)


These kinds of designs are everywhere in Seattle and Vancouver, but it was solemn and beautiful to see the source.


Since our trip, Tommy's considering an image like this for a tattoo.



On the flight home, Tommy snapped this photo of Mount St. Helens. (We think. What else could it be?)


Driving from the airport north to Santa Fe, this new moon welcomed us home.

A Week In the Northwest

Clearly the scenery has changed. Rushing River and Placid Lagoon have finally recouperated from their week-long trip to the Pacific Northwest the last week of March. I presented at a conference, but managed to work in some downtime with Tommy. Corey and Mom even joined us for the first few days. Above, a photo from our stroll on the pier in Seattle.



Tommy and Mom have a chat.



Tommy got a great shot of these seagulls. (It's all so exciting to us desert dwellers.)



Corey was our tour guide at the Boeing Museum of Flight. (Gearhead!)



Ground Control to Major Tommy. . .



Corey's too cool for space.



How do you like me now, Richard Branson?

Outtakes

Wow, it's been a long time since I posted. First I got busy with Christmas, then I took an eight-week freelance assignment on top of my regular job and fitness teaching, and the next thing I know, I haven't blogged for about two months. Anyway, the assignment includes photography, so over the past few weeks, I've taken quite a few photos that haven't made their way into print, but are nice nonetheless. Here's a visual log of the past six weeks.



A very snowy December day. I took a long walk with the camera and felt like Lucy in Narnia.



My gym, Evolve. Seems kinda mundane, but I've spent a good portion of my life here. Being part of a fitness community is endlessly rewarding. (And any of my Evolve friends who read this will TOTALLY make fun of me for being sappy now.)



On some travel for work, I went to Santa Rosa and Tucumcari, New Mexico. In Santa Rosa there's this geological phenomenon called the Blue Hole. As far as I can tell, it's the same thing they call a cenote in the Yucatan. It's an 80-foot-deep spring that's a constant 62 degrees. (I think that's the temperature, anyway.)



I took lots of photos of the koi in the Blue Hole. (Yes, the water really is that blue.)



I went on to Tucumcari, where I visited the historical society museum there. I thought it was kinda hokey at first, but I grew to love it, because it was obviously such a 3-D scrapbook of the community. Clearly, lotsa folks donated skulls. . .



. . . and family photos.



I love a museum that doesn't take itself too seriously.



On the drive back from Tucumcari and Santa Rosa, I managed to get several photos of these pronghorn antelope. I was surprised by how curious they were about me. The longer I stood there, the closer they got.



Here's the view in my windshield as I headed back to Santa Fe. That's Hermit's Peak, which looms over Las Vegas, New Mexico, stomping grounds of the Placid Lagoon (Tommy).