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 ... [?]