Because the night belongs to Santaʻs elf pig

The little town has a Christmas Lighting contest for local businesses.

My favorite this year, dinosaurs notwithstanding, is the Feed Store display which has a bull riding snow man cowboy roping a pig while a few other characters look on. 

Best of all the Feed Store display is fun in the daylight hours too, unlike those which make heavy use of inflated figures. In the daytime these deflated figures look like a whole lot of spent prophylactics, making the whole town look very shabby and post-party debauched.

Having the holiday lights really did get me out on the streets at night admiring. Most businesses focused on after dark effects, unfortunately, which meant that for the month of December daylight experience of the town, especially historic old downtown, is through  a tangle of holiday lights wires, darkly. Unfortunate this.

An Evening of Lights at Aztec Ruins National Monument

The sky put on a spectacular display as we lit the luminaries at the Aztec Ruins for the annual Evening of Lights.

For a moment the last rays of sun and the candles in the luminaria compete.

Night and the candles and solar lights won.

Solar lights outline the footpaths around the Great House as night falls.

Over 250 luminaria  (candles in paper bags weighted with sand) lit the park headquarters.

The ruins of an Ancient Puebloan Great House were lit from within with solar lights

The same solar lights made beautiful patterns on the ground surrounding the Great Kiva

Dinosaur de-light

When you live in a World Heritage archaeological site, the holiday decorations can get interesting. 

This fine display of 15 or maybe even 20 foot high dinosaurs is at the county headquarters at the west end of town.

Southern aspect

Warmth from the sun's  low arc isn't all the south brings to me at the Bluehouse

Sometimes there are deer neighbors in the dusk.

I am going to miss them when I move.

Playing ducks and drakes at the waters edge

On a recent crossing of the Rio de las Animas Perdita I watch a pair of mallards [Anas platyrhynchos] playing in the shallows.

There is something in the foam along the edges which they like. Both of them are up to their eyeballs in it at times. No I donʻt know what makes the water foam. Less than four months ago this river was contaminated by a mine tailings disaster.

I could get lost in the colours on these avian critters. That hidden little flash of white bordered sapphire under the wings. The green iridescence of his head. The lovely red-orange of their webbed toed duckfeet paddling, paddling, paddling, under the clear water, against the current.

Watching the river flow. Itʻs a thing to do with a life.

 Look hard on the right hand waters edge above. The mallard pair are paddling upstream.

Repunzelʻs chariot

Repunzelʻs chariot awaits her.

Tower, silo, kiva, granary. The childrenʻs room of a library. Seen from the south.

Happiness is sometimes a pink bicycle and a blue sky. An opalescence of clouds: bonus.

Just a hint of a crack

Good morning New Mexico!

With just two weeks to the solstice, mornings are really dark.

As I make breakfast, a waning crescent moon, holding the ghost of the next in its arms, is dancing with a star, with just a hint of crack beginning to let the light in along the horizon.

This is why I like an east facing house here. Southeast is best for winter light and sky gazing.

Following the yellow brick road into hot water

Yes I am in hot water again.

I followed the yellow brick road to the Healing Waters Resort and Spa, Pagosa Springs, Colorado. A while ago, at another historic old bathouse in Jemez Springs, I was told to go across the road from the big fancy drinks-by-the-pool place. So I crossed the road.

At Healing Waters there are indoor bathhouses, one for men, one for women, strictly no kids, clothing optional, about 110 degrees of incredible, lightly sulfurous, natural, hot, mineral springs water. On the wall in the women's bathouse there are paintings: Cave art horses which look very Lascaux to me. Human figures which look very Drakensberg. All contribute to the steamy, primal, cave atmosphere.

Outside,  around a corner, tucked away behind a fence, there is a natural (so management assure me) mineral water soaking tub of about 104 degrees, under trees and sky. I found this pool very calm and set away from any action. Big enough to float in, I had it almost exclusively to myself. One drive by soaker hit and ran, and one workman came to warm up his glaze for some tables he was coating.

The Healing Waters is also a motel. An RV park too.

Enchanted skies: holding space for ML

Good morning, New Mexico! Looking east.

Good Night, New Mexico! Looking south.

Two skies are the bookends to a Sunday spent contemplating passages, beginnings, endings. Running my hand through the treasure box, telling the beads of a friendship across space and time.

Yet for these two liminal times, the sky hung low and grey all day , clouds with bellies full of snow not quite prepared to give the moisture up to the dry desert. 

The light is the brightest when we stand at the threshold. 

Those salmon sunset clouds brought a light frosting of snow overnight: the whole world crystalline and shimmering magic in the Monday morning light.

Oh you know who I am/ you have stared at the sun/ well I am the one/ who keeps changing from nothing to one...

Leonard Cohen - You know who I am

Squally Animas River crossing

That's me about to get caught in a squall heading home from a little walkabout in da hood.

The ass next door - Equis africanus asinus

If you come to visit me at my library please bring carrots. Or apples, celery or cabbage leaves. 

Failing that, at least bring lots of of love and petting for the ancient and very venerable donkey next door. 

Equis africanus asinus lives in a field alongside the library book drop. She loves attention. A veritable sponge for affection and feeding, she is.

Falafel waffles no cigar

And then again sometimes my culinary experiments have unexpected  results. 

Two days soaking and cooking the chick peas (garbanzo to some) to make falafel waffles and I end up with falafel crumbles and a whole lot of falafel crumbs all over everything including those hard little criss cross crevices in the new waffle iron.

Taste, however,  was good and very falafel-like - thank you cumin, sage and oregano also thanks to an impulsively liberal scattering of Harissa spice mix. Am thinking I had the mix too moist. Oh well. 

Eastern elevation

 The eastern facade of the library just after sunrise on a last Sunday in November, no cars in the parking lot, 19 degrees F cold and that huge impossibly blue New Mexico tin drum sky. No filter.

Riverside park reflecting winter

Walking the Animas River trail in thin midday sun, Riverside Park is people empty but full of sky and sombre water.

The storm water retention pond reflects on matters. 

Winter bare tress scribble the horizon. Water is as cold as metal. Way cold.

Reincarnation

Repurposing stuff and completing unfinished business.

That's how I happily spent most of The Great Turkey Massacre. Grateful for the liberated time to do this. 

Here new pillow cases for my bed are being born: a Ganesha batik shirt bought in India in the nineties teams up with a Sig Zane Hawaiian print dress found In a thrift store in Hilo last year. A bit of hand embroidery still to come. 

We shall live again! Shake out the ghost dance with Patti Smith

"Ghost Dance"

We shall live again, we shall live.

What is it children that falls from the sky?

Tayi, taya, tayi, aye aye.

Mannah from Heaven from the most high,

Food from the father, tayi, taye aye.

We shall live again, we shall live again,

We shall live again, shake out the ghost dance.

Peace to your brother, give and take peace,

Tayi, taya, it leaves two feet

One foot extended, snake to the ground,

Wave up the Earth, one turn around.

We shall live again, we shall live again,

We shall live again, shake out the ghost dance.

Stretch out your arms now tip and swing,

Rude up thy bird, tayi, tayi.

Threw out your shoe over the soil,

Dust off the words that shaped from the tale.

We shall live again, we shall live again,

We shall live again, shake out the ghost dance.

Here we are, Father, Lord, Holy Ghost,

Bread of your bread, ghost of your host,

We are the tears that fall from your eyes,

Word of your word, cry of your cry.

We shall live again, we shall live again,

We shall live again.

What is it, Father, in your eye,

What is this wisdom, eyes of God,

That makes me feel just what I need.

You used to fly me the way to speed.

What is it, Father, holy that night?

What is it, Father, that moves to the right?

What is it, Father, that is waiting in Heaven?

What is it, Father, that shapes from your hand?

What is it, Father, that makes me spin around?

What is it, Father, that brings me down

What is it, Father, you can't tell what I like.

What is it, Father, I just ride into space

What is it, Father, I can tell you one night

What is it, Father, I can tell what I like

What is it, Father, are you into shape

What is it, Father, are you calling today

What is it, Father ... [?]

Road tripping

Early morning, early autumn light on roadside Zia Pueblo.

Mana Road

Driving the unimproved Mana Road around Mauna Kea puts one above the human development, below the snow line. A completely different view of the island

Sky, earth, cloud. Mauna Loa from the beginning of Mana Road.

Looking across at Kilauea from Mana Road, Pu'u O'o vent is on the horizon almost dead centre.

Pu'u O'o is the vent which caused all the trouble in my neighborhood last year, erupting molten lava all the way to the highway. This is reputed to be the longest continual volcano eruption.

The biginning of the end of the " good" section of the road. Puddles and mud and cliff sized lava rock steps to follow

We find a pool of deep peace stopping for a snack in the shade of 100 year old, lichen festooned Koa trees. 

Canoe wood trees, I suspect that these are some of the last remaining naturally occurring specimen

The ancient Polynesian in an ancient Koa tree grove, Mana road, Mauna Kea.