Remnants of summer remaining
Sunrise over canyon walls, hoot owl calling
Hints of autumn lurking
beauty
Santa Ana Pueblo, New Mexico
At Tamaya Resort, this past week I attended a regional conference of the Alpha Delta Kappa teachers’ sorority. Run by Hyatt, this resort resides on Santa Ana Pueblo land near Bernalillo, New Mexico. Although the word pueblo is Spanish for town, in New Mexico its meaning extends far beyond town.
There are 19 pueblos in New Mexico. Several are near Albuquerque: Santa Ana, Santa Domingo, Sandia, and farther to the north, Taos Pueblo near the town which bears its name. Many pueblos have been inhabited for many centuries, e.g.Santa Ana since the 1500s and Acoma since the 1200s. Each pueblo is synonymous with a particular American Indian tribe.
Santa Ana Pueblo land borders the Rio Grande River. Tribal members number approximately 900. Their children attend public school in Bernalillo. The tribe’s income comes primarily from the Tamaya Resort and a casino. Employees at the resort come from all over the United States as well as other countries. Our waiter at one of the four restaurants came from a small town in Yucatan, Mexico.
All the buildings show the traditional pueblo style. The horno–oven–on the left in this photo is actually used. The courses and activities for guests are extensive, including making bread and baking it in this horno. Golf, horse back riding, hiking to the Rio Grande, swimming–there are four pools, jewelry making, bike riding, creating your own dream catcher, and many others options keep guests busy. Their horse rescue center is the largest in New Mexico.
The trail to the bosque and river start just below the lounging and grill area. Bosque (forest or woods) is another one of those Spanish words, here used specifically in relation to the forested area along the Rio Grande. Like in most of the West, rain is always welcome. It rained several times while we were there.
The intense blue of the New Mexico sky mixed with storm clouds make for perfect photos.
After approximately a mile of walking, the hiker arrives at the Rio Grande. Because of the rains, it became higher and higher.
Looking down river. The river was moving so fast that I could hear it rolling along.
Looking slightly up river. Seeing this, it is hard to believe that by the time it arrives at the Gulf of Mexico, it is a mere trickle.
Early morning hikers on the bosque trail.
While hiking, I looked up and could not help it; I had to photograph the famous New Mexico sky which Georgia O’Keefe loved to paint.
Summer Day
j
sunrise over canyon wall
shimmering heat of a summer day
sun sinking behind cedars
Book Review by Mary Sharratt: ESTHER by Rebecca Kanner
I am reblogging this because it fits with my next book project: poems from the viewpoint of the ancient mother goddess and others from the viewpoint of women in the Bible.
We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault or mine. The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed into the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing. That is why I became a footnote, my story a brief detour between the well-known history of my father and the celebrated chronicle of my brother.
-Anita Diamant, The Red Tent
To a large extent, women have been written out of history. Their lives and deeds have become lost to us. To uncover the buried histories of women, we must act as detectives, studying the clues left from ages lost.
At its best, historical fiction can write women back into history and challenge our misconceptions about women in the past. Anita Diamant’s novel, TheRed Tent, became such an…
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Typical Summer Morning
listen to birdsong
walk to barn
feed Rosie
photograph flowers
Sacred
Warm summer raindrops on my face
Crimson cardinal drinking in blue birdbath
Feather grass waving in the wind
Last lavender and white iris before first frost
Cups of coffee from Chiapas at 6 in the morning
The sunning rattlesnake lying by my feet
Horses running wild and free
Facebook messages from friends far away
Waterfall’s roar after the thunderstorm
Night songs–coyote, cricket, nighthawk, frogs, hoot owl
Life
First Flowers on the Rim of Wonder
Spring comes several weeks later in the country compared to town. The recent rains caused a sudden rush of beauty for wild flowers and iris which grow here almost as readily as the wild, native plants. They seem to appreciate this high, semi-arid country.
These iris thrive in spite of native, caliche soil, no extra water, nothing. About 1 1/2 years ago, I simply planted them without soil amendment or fertilizer. These are rebloomers. They will bloom again in autumn.
These I planted along side the barn. Once again no soil amendment, nothing extra. However, they receive extra water from rain running off the barn roof.
Notice, the tallest one. I did not even know I had one that color until it bloomed.
Here it is up close. Now for the wild flowers I found just strolling around after letting my horse out to graze.
After looking through a couple of native plant books, I gave up on identifying this one. If someone who reads this knows, please tell me what it is. I have also heard there is an app for my iPAD that identifies plants. I have yet to find it.
This grows by the retaining wall near the barn. Although the flowers look like guara, the rest of the plant does not. What is it?
Chocolate flowers were in full bloom a few days ago. Here is one still blooming with a few scrambled eggs (yes, the common name for the smaller flowers) here and there.
These carpet large portions of the pasture. Guessing they are some type of wild onion but not certain.
The blackfoot daisies are just beginning to bloom. They will cheer up the landscape all summer and into the fall.
As more flowers bloom, I will add photos of flowers living here on the rim of wonder.
Saturday Night
Read two pages,
“Ghana Must Go”.
The wife’s Nigerian,
Yoruba, Igbo.
She sells flowers,
not in Nigeria.
The author’s name
Ethiopian?
Sip zinfandel
flowered glass.
Take a bite
chocolate filled
peppermint,
lick peppermint
fingers.
Read two pages:
“Africans…the indifference of the abundantly blessed…
who can’t accept, even with evidence, that anything native,
occurring in abundance, is exceptional without effort,
has value.”
Does anyone?
Costa Rica Adventure, Day Five–Hidden Treasures in the Rainforest
After we left the little village of Colonia Liberatad, we headed down another unpaved road to a tiny little building in a large garden for coffee and dessert. Costa Rica is heaven for flower and plant lovers, a true botanists’ paradise.
A pebbled path led from the road to the “restaurant”. No one rushed; we were too enthralled with the flowers, the humidity, the total intenseness of the surroundings and atmosphere.
Although I have been to Costa Rica twice now, ten days each time, and love flowers, still I can only recall the names of a few.
Hundreds, sometimes, thousands, of species reside within only a few square yards.
Everyone stopped along the way to look. Some of the children wanted to hunt for reptiles. They were warned because the deadly fear-de-lance lives here. A few assured everyone they knew exactly what they look like. Knowing them, it was probably true.
A wood building is a rare sight anywhere I have been there–too much rain. All roofs are either metal or tile for the same reason. Other types of roofing rot. Some have totally given up trying to add color because it disappears quickly apparently. This area of Costa Rica on the Caribbean side of the mountains receives rain daily. It rained off and on all day.
I have no idea the name of the dessert they served us with coffee. It resembled Indian Fry Bread (from New Mexico and Arizona–I love the stuff), super crispy, soaked in honey.
The road just outside this hidden gem.
The Haunting of the Mexican Border
If you have any interest whatsoever as to how times have changed along the border, the culture of the people of Sonora and Chihuahua, this is a must read. I need to go visit my friends who live there.
Cowboy and flowers on grave © Tim Fuller
The Haunting of the Mexican Border
I had no idea the blessing I was about to receive when I was asked to review The Haunting of the Mexican Border: A Woman’s Journey by Kathryn Ferguson for Story Circle Book Reviews. I said yes, since how could I possible resist that title? I spent the next few weeks savoring the experiences, ideas, and prose of this book. This is not a book that I read fast. I found myself re-reading sentences for the sheer beauty of the prose and scenes for the powerful experiences conveyed.
Mostly, I was taken with the melding of past and present, as my own experiences growing up on a ranch along the San Pedro River, a vein for Mexican migrants coming to the US, sent me reeling between the intimate familiarity of the rhythms of migration in this region…
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