It was warm yesterday when I shot this in the canyon at Pilar, low 70s, in fact. It probably looks the same today, but Nature’s serious and colder air is blowing in. We could even get a touch of snow tonight.
Meanwhile back in Llano Quemado, invisible buzzards circle the the twin Adobes of Doom. The two warring parties in eternal probate invested plenty back in June to fix the illegal septic system shared between two houses, and yet two days ago, our toilet stopped up cold without a warning. You’d think we’d flushed the cat.
Ignoring for the moment that in the aftermath of the septic tank repair adventure, the sloping yard now funnels rainwater and snow melt directly to the tank—who cares, adios—this whole affair has been quite the entertainment and a lesson in “old Taos,” so long as I ignore the years spent dealing with the fallout. When we’re in our next place, though, I write the book!
(A Taos book, I think, although the thing has not been done right yet by anyone afraid of being hanged.)