Globemallow

A fine stand of globemallow has sprung up near the desert willow.

There are some out front on the street too.

Desert dessert

Prickly pears are ripening out front at the desert casita. Neighborhood kids are prowling with sticks to knock them off. Hard to protect my precious harvest from 350 miles away

Directing water

Finally after two months, got gutters up on the sides of the casita. 

Then spent a good few hours, until I ran out of rocks,  making a creek bed to lead the northwestern runoff to the New Mexican elderberry, and away from the adobe house walls.

Then it stormed, briefly, just enough to let me see what happens to water flow when it rains.

This is the northeastern corner where I didn't quite get the water draining into a basin under the mesquite tree.

Next project: the eastern porch. When I can get the hired help to stop fussing about the house being crooked and just to throw the slab and be done. It is a hand built house with the oldest walls fashioned from unfired blocks of earth in 1932. There has been much " maintenance" over the years (re-stucco mostly) Of course it isn't going to be square. That is its beauty to me. 

Desert casita weekend

Had a very friendly and playful young visitor at the desert casita Saturday morning. 

Cats find me wherever I go though I have never in my life " owned" a cat. Curious.

Noticing how the monsoons  - the late July/ August thunderstorms -  make a huge difference. 

The last time I was here the back yard was sandy desert. This time it is green and needing weed whacking. Or something.

The street side had also gotten wild. 

A few hours on Sunday morning, pulling grass and picking litter off the prickly pear spines,  and we are no longer bringing the neighborhood into disrepute

Finger in the proverbial

Monsoon flooding prevention, New Mexico style

A few days ago this entrance was a lake.

I reported the situation to the property management company. A day or so later, I received a text from a maintenance man telling me he was going to fix the problem of flooding into the house.

The solution? Remove the boardwalk. Pile up sandbags and plastic sheets. 

Hoping this is a temporary measure.

Enchanted skies

Good morning, New Mexico!

Rainbow warriors carry the torch

Little one inch packages of heat. 

The (Capsicum annuum) Masquerade chile pepper is fruiting. The little flames move through green, purple, orange to red.

None of my Hawaiian hot pepper seeds germinated so I am finding solace with this little masquerade, found as a seedling at a local Farmer's Market

The mobile kitchen garden

 The new casita has a lovely, private, semi sunny, courtyard.

This array is some of the 27 pots which I moved today. 

Nomadic kitchen gardening.

Soldier blue

Moved ( again) to a new, hopefully roach free, casita this weekend. Yes, I know I was barely 3 months at the last place, and this makes the 4th rented roof in 18 months but....that dang nomad gene...

I did what I always do in a new place: prowled the territory looking for messages.

This little shooter was there, waiting for me,  face down, half buried in the mud, under the washing line. 

He is now rescued, washed and in the inside aloe vera pot in the very blue bathroom. 

May aloe balm heal the hurt that causes senseless shooting

Lingua franca

Discovered on a cast (recycled) metal patio furniture kit which I ordered online.

Obviously from a place far far away, where English is not natural.

Not quite lost in translation but this instruction does go interesting places.

Once upon a time in the west

A sliver of silver. Full moonset above a library bookdrop. 

Good morning New Mexico!

El Camino Real

There are several conveniently placed rest stops alongside the Interstate 25 south of Alburquerque.

Necessary comfort breaks on long road trips turn into lessons in history and geography.

The toilets are superbly maintained too. 

Just do it!

Spotted on a big, old, dark blue, beat-up Ford 350 diesel truck.

First fruits celebration!

Waiting for the season's first bushel of green chile to be roasted. Animas Hot. 

Should I have chosen a medium hot variety?

Forget sweet floral fragrances! If heaven had a smell, it would be green chile roasting: this smokey, earthy, sweet, burning vegetable, pungence which surrounds me.

Then I am eager to sample. 

My tongue and lips burn for at least an hour sending me running for the iced coconut water.  Animas Hot: yes!

Nightskyscape: making do without the Perseid shower

The only star in my night sky is the neon one at La Paloma bathhouse, in the historic hotsprings district, Truth or Consequences, New Mexico

Or: why I didn't see the Perseid meteor showers (again) this year.

Signs and omens

Grocery shopping while at the little desert casita for the weekend. 

How do you know that you are within spitting distance of Mexico Antiguo?

A meditation on heliotropism

Sunflower playing coy

Brazen sunflower

Life sentence

40 years and nine months of learning to love this human being. 

Happy Birthday, Fred! 

Reflecting on the gifts of Corn Mother

Well did you grow corn flowering seven foot high  out back of your library this year?

The Back Forty garden is not quite three months old. 

It is wild right now: seven foot corn flowering, eight foot sunflowers budding, a continent of lemon basil for pesto, arugula flowers feeding the bees to make seed for next season's sowing.

Rainbow chard. Enough to feed the world. Or feels like it anyway.

Eight foot sunflowers, reaching for ten foot, buds the size of dinner plates, guard the back exit walkway

And hummingbirds in the mornings, bumblebees at midday, mosquitoes in the evening.

Corn Maiden lives!

Milagro cornfield at dusk

Because living in the Land of Enchantment is a daily milagro.

Because having a cornfield out back of a US library is a daily milagro.

Just a milagro cornfield. No beans.

Dancing in the light.

Moth medicine messenger

Who goes there? 

Not sure who this lovely is: currently hanging out at my front door

Something hidden here

Dancing in the dark: diary of a river

Blessing the strong brown god, one year on after the Gold King Mine spill turned the river turmeric yellow.

One year on and elected officials gather at podiums in front of the river to wave their fly whisks.

One year on and still we don't know so much. The Animas river where I meet it, is a strong brown god these days thanks to monsoon season and good storms in the mountains. The river gallops full and furious with the rainwater runoff. 

I don't know what lies in the churning sediment or what the bottom of Lake Powell looks like or what effect from eating the corn and chile irrigated by this water this season.

We don't know so much. Politicians  with their fly whisks and bluster don't fill the holes so we go to the water's edge with prayers and blessings.

Then I go to the local family farm stall. It is the season of first harvest (Lugnasadh). I find the first sweetcorn of the season, rainbow coloured bell peppers, green beans, red onions, chile cheese bread all grown in fields irrigated with water drawn from the Rio de las Animas Perdita. That same river poisoned with heavy metals from the Gold King Mine spill a year ago. 

Dancing in the dark, playing Russian Roulette with my future. But dancing.

Backdrop to a fairytale life

Rapunzel is in the tower, no hair to let down. The flaming sky does not care.

Good Morning New Mexico

Two crows and a horned moon

New moon watching me go to the gym

Coming out after a workout an hour or so later: a new moon, two crow dawn sneaks up on a slumbering town.

Gifts there are for the early riser.

Bring on the day!