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Visiting Chaco Canyon

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Several weeks ago, I spent a day wandering around the ancient sites where native peoples gathered over a thousand years ago.

This explains the extensive influence this place, located in the northwestern New Mexico desert, held for people from as far away as Central America. To reach this park, you have to drive on a dirt/gravel, rough road for more than 25 miles north of Crownpoint, NM. It is definitely worth the effort. However, it is impassable in rainy or snowy weather. The rangers who care for the park live there.

One of the first things you see as you get closer to the park is this rock tower, Fajada Butte.

Archeologists climbed to the top and discovered petroglyphs, “Sun Daggers”. Created between rock slabs, they align with each solstice and equinox and at these events the light projects to other sites, e.g. Pueblo Bonito. Other petroglyphs on a section of the canyon wall represent a supernova that occurred in 1054 CE.

The following depicts an overview of the site as it would have been in the past. In the 1940s part of the wall of rock behind the site collapsed onto it and destroyed some of the buildings.

Here is how it looks today. Many of the doors and windows align with astronomical events, e.g. solstices, the two equinox, and astronomical events that occur only every 17 years.

All sites here contain many kivas, many of which are very large. It is speculated that these were used for various sorts of ceremonies, including religious events.

In this view you can see how the rocks that fell from the cliff have destroyed parts of the structures.

Many of the buildings were several stories high. In their heyday, they did not look like this. They were covered with something like stucco and painted white. What an impressive site they must have been–large white structures in the middle of the brown desert. Archeologists think few people lived here. It was a place for gathering, for ceremonies, for trade, for people from long distances to meet.

Across from Pueblo Bonito is the largest kiva found in the area.

Behind the bars on the far side of the photo is an area that was used for ceremonial dancers to don their costumes. At the bottom you can see a depression with a small door. Before centuries of sand filled it in, this place would have be large enough for the ceremonial dancers to enter through it.

If you follow a trail along the cliff from Pueblo Bonito, you will find another area built at different times hundreds of years ago.

Another large kiva and many smaller ones are located at this site, including this famous long wall built at two different times.

The following shows where at some point the wall stopped, then later it was continued using somewhat different building material and techniques.

The top photo is considered the newer part of the wall.

The wood used for tops of windows and doors was brought from forests hundreds of miles away. The desert air has enable it to be preserved.

When you walk the trails, you see wild flowers and native plants. This is desert rhubarb and it is edible.

While these are photos of the more impressive structures at Chaco Canyon, more than two hundred ceremonial and meeting sites can be found in this area of NM and AZ.

Canyon de Chelley–Part Two: Driving into The Bottom

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Canyon de Chelley was named by the Spanish who could not quite pronounce the Diné (Navaho) word for it and hence this name which is pronounced like de shay. It is more than 30 miles long and has a river running through it at least a substantial part of the year. In summer native people live there with sheep, horses, etc. even though fewer and fewer of the younger generation choose to do so. To enter the bottom of the canyon, you must acquire a permit and hire a Navaho driver. This is to protect it from the vandalism that occurred in the past. Canyon de Chelley is jointly managed by the National Park Service and the Navaho Nation.

Canyon de Chelley begins at the edge of Chinle, AZ, near the Holiday Inn which, by the way, serves traditional food such as mutton stew and blue corn fry bread. Yes, I ate both. This photo shows the beginning.

It was quite a trip; I sat between two women in the back of a Jeep with a perfect view of everything right in front of me. Oscar, the driver, knew exactly how to traverse the water, the wash (what they call this stream), run up and down the banks.

Driving right up the middle of the wash.

Petroglyphs can be seen in so many places we stopped that I lost count. Oscar said they are nearly endless and can be found throughout the canyon walls.

A few days previous to our arrival it had snowed so everything was green and lush from snow melt.

In addition to petroglyphs, there are etchings in the rock walls.

In this case an etching/rock carving of horses.

Yes, we drove under this overhanging tree limb.

Sometimes the wash was narrower and deeper and we drove up and down steep banks and through deeper water.

Ancient pueblo people lived here for centuries, some more than 5,000 years ago. This is one of the largest pueblo structures in the canyon (The White House–due to a white washed wall which you cannot see from this vantage point). The fence was built to protect it from vandals. We saw many smaller dwelling places and Oscar said there are hundreds in the canyon.

Headed back down the wash. This was a half day trip so only saw less than half of the canyon. You can hire for an all day trip complete with picnic lunch and go all the way to some of the famous formations that can be seen from the road at the edge of the top. There is also a side canyon called Muerto–due to a massacre of the natives that occurred after the Navaho forced long march.

The Jeep needs a bath after this trip.

Note: With a permit and guides, there is camping and horseback riding trips up the canyon in addition to this type of tour.

Book 19 for 2024: “Unearthing”, Kyo Maclear

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Several months after Maclear’s father (who was a famous journalist) dies, she decides to take a DNA test to find out more about her family health and personality history, mainly because of the stories about a particular grandmother. She wonders if certain traits she and her sons have might possibly be inherited. The results of the test are a shock. Her father, the father she adored, who raised her and adored her, is not her biological father. At first, she thinks perhaps it was a sperm donor, but then she discovers this is not the case. Through the DNA test and her detective work, she finds two biological half-brothers (she was an only child before this discovery) who are willing to communicate with her, send her photos, etc. She tries relentlessly to acquire more information from her mother, who is often unforthcoming or tells her contradictory information. Then her mother gets dementia.

This is also a story of plants, of gardening. Both she and her mother are amateur botanists and expert gardeners. When nothing else works in their mother-daughter relationship, their love of plants and gardening holds them together. Even with dementia, her mother knows plants. Their other joint endeavor is ink drawings and love of art.

Additionally, this is the story of family, family secrets, inter-racial marriage, and challenging relationships. Kyo’s mother is Japanese living originally in England and later in Canada who often struggled with her status as a Japanese immigrant. Her “real” father, the one who raised her, was of British and Irish descent; her biological father was a Jewish formula one race car driver.

Two New Poems for National Poetry Month

/ Juliana Lightle / 2 Comments

Rainy Day

sheets of rain against the kitchen window

heavy fog hides mountain peaks

scarlet hibiscus and bougainvillea brighten

a gloomy day

Dusk

The wind died; stillness pervades.

A distant train whistle interrupts.

Tiny brown bird chirps its chitty song.

Mountains display navy blue and purple.

The western sky becomes cantaloupe color.

Walking in Pasadena Near Rose Bowl

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Fearless little bird with chocolate brown head runs beside me

on the road. At the intersection I circle to the left, following

a familiar route. The heavy tree canopy here always astonishes.

It’s almost like walking in a forest.

The architectural variety amazes: mid-century modern, Spanish,

colonial, ranch, the smallest I am guessing contains 3500 sq. ft. One

house encompasses an entire city block, fronted with heavy, high

fences and metal gates. Privacy obsessed.

I’m watching my time. I don’t want to be late for singing

practice. I take a new route, perhaps a shortcut. It’s

120 degrees of a circle. Not quite a regular street,

not quite an alley, a combination–fronts of a few houses

and the backside of others. At one place it angles more;

I come to a three story stone fortress with intricate

geometrical designs vertically running up and down

the walls. No windows. A sign says, “No trespassing.”

Realization hits me. This is the other side of a house

I saw last year through a gap in a wall on another street.

Three ladies, strangers, asked me about it, told me they’d

heard it was the creation of a famous architect. I researched,

asked others, no one knew. Back then, I tried to find the front,

failed. Now I’m looking at it, wonderstruck. It appears abandoned,

an architectural wonder belonging to another time and place.

Time to rush, a bit lost, I look at my phone map, finish the loop,

find a familiar street, walk faster. Then I see a large, white, colonial house,

weeds knee high, black shutters hanging askew. Here it is abandoned

in the midst of multi-million dollar houses. I wonder what the neighbors

think. Walking on I hear water rushing, peer through the hedges–a stream

runs downhill from the side of this huge brown house at least 100 feet

and gurgles in a pool behind the bushes. Hurrying, I stop in front of one

of my favorite houses, a one-story, tan, Spanish style, small compared

to the others nearby. I take a photo of the tree in front by the sidewalk,

its impressive girth impossible to ignore.

Finally, I’m near my destination, walking in front of The Gamble House,

a tourist destination made famous by the movie, “Back to the Future”,

a structure I see at least twice a week.

Poems

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I started out thinking I would write a poem per day for National Poetry Month. Well, I’m a bit behind on that, but here are two of several I have written so far.

Spring

The mockingbird awakens me with his song.

A hummingbird, dressed in green with an iridescent

orange collar, flits by my head then sips nectar

from a scarlet bougainvillea blossom.

The neighborhood barn owl hoots at dawn and dusk.

A black and red/orange bird I’ve never seen before

lights on a palo verde limb.

A Western Bluebird dips its beak repeatedly in

the talavera birdbath.

Remember

In this world steeped in senseless violence remember

each day to find a piece of beauty:

-rosebuds opening

-the scent of jasmine

-a friend’s smile

-a bit of birdsong

In this world ravaged by wars remember

each day to find the jewels of joy:

-listen to a child’s laughter

-dance to a favorite song

-walk in the morning sunshine

-tell someone you love them

Book 15 for 2024: “The Elegance of the Hedgehog”, Muriel Barbery

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Before reading this book, I thought of French society as relatively egalitarian. Apparently, it is not if this book mirrors reality. One main character Renee, 54, lives and works as a concierge in a high class building containing eight, large, luxury apartments which the residents own. As she tells her story, she notes that this is her 27th year at this job. She describes herself as “short, ugly, plump”. She rarely says anything nice about herself or any of the residents. She notes she is uneducated, insignificant. She has one friend, Manuela, a cleaning woman originally from Portugal. Renee thinks it is her duty, her lot in life, to pretend to be something she is really not, a person totally lacking in intellectual and artistic acumen. She runs the television to make the residents think she watches mindless melodramas when she is actually reading Tolstoy as well as all sorts of literature and Marx, history, well every genre. After all, her cat is named Leo for a reason. She goes to art galleries, listens to all sorts of classical music, is basically an intellectual in the true meaning of the word, but works very hard to hide this, because she thinks she must stick to her station in life as she sees it. This works until one resident dies and a wealthy Japanese man buys the deceased man’s apartment. Both he, who notes her cat is named Leo, and a young girl, the other main character who lives in one of the apartments and plans to commit suicide and set their apartment on fire, suspect Renee is not as she appears to be. I do not want to give it all away, but this is a book with many life lessons, including that adage about not judging a book by its cover.

Book 11, 2024: ” Frida’s Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo”

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The author of this book, Guadelupe Rivera, is the daughter of Diego Rivera by the woman to whom he was married before he married Frida. Diego went on a trip to Russia and his then wife, the author’s mother, became attached to her previous boyfriend, the poet Jorge Cuesta. She and Diego divorced and then he married Frida. Eventually, the two couples became friendly and at one point they all lived in the same house.

Thirteen years after Diego married Frida, the author moved in with them. This book details her life living with Frida and her father, how Frida learned to cook, how she decorated the Blue House in Coyoacan, the fiestas, the food, the adventures. The book includes photos and recipes of Frida and Diego’s favorite foods, photos of the house, and places the author visited with Frida. It is also a story of many of Mexico’s famous people at the time.

I own several books about Frida but this one is the most revealing and intimate in many ways. If you like Mexican food and find the life and art of Frida and Diego of interest, read this book.

Note: It was also written by the journalist Pierre Marie-Colle with photos by Ignacio Urquiza.

Eye Drama

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Kohl

Kajal

Sormeh

Mebari

Ancient names for eyeliner

still in use today.

Kohl-Arabic

Kajal-South Asian

Ithmid-the purest kohl

made from galena

Surma-powered kohl in Urdu, Bengali

Sormeh-loose power preferred by Persians

Tiro-Nigerian

Mebari-red eyeliner, Japanese

Nefertiti used it.

Today the Worso and Wodaabe

African men use it.

Where women must veil themselves

the eyes are everything.

Bedouins use it for protection

from the desert sun.

In defiance find Cat Eyes

in Chola culture.

In Kerala Kathakali

dancers use it.

Geishas in Kyoto use red.

Find influencers on TikTok

Instragram, they will

teach you how.

Note: The above poem was inspired by my most recent read:

“Eyeliner A Cultural History”, Zahra Hankir. Hankir is a Lebanese journalist whose history of eyeliner throughout the world informs the reader about places and people and customs many never heard of or know about.