They fixed the blinking red light in Ranchos. Good call. Yesterday traffic was backed up to the light at the top of the hill. It’s funny how people don’t seem to know what to do when that happens. I’ve noticed that turning right on red has fallen by the wayside, too. Lost knowledge from the late 20th century?
Speaking of days gone by, we drove over the 8,500 foot mountain pass just south of here to see a house yesterday about 30 minutes from town. For sale by owner, who wasn’t there, but he told me in an email to feel free to walk around. There was a beautiful 100-year-old territorial adobe on three acres with water rights, an old adobe barn converted to an art gallery, a two-stall stable, a genuine adobe chicken coop, you name it. Huge apple trees in the front yard, tall lilacs beside the house. The abuela vibe was strong. So was the highway noise through the privacy fence. My wife was badly smitten and still is. I liked it well enough except for the cars shooting by at 40 miles per hour and wondered why we needed the two-acre field if we had no horses. But this is the kind of place we had in Maryland.
Everywhere I looked, there was something to mow or rake or fix. I’d like that kind of work a lot more if time weren’t getting short. Suddenly I understood why so many retirees were happy with their fake adobes in the sagebrush. Back down here in Taos in the terrible high desert, all I’d have to do was walk out to the porch, wipe the dust off my chair, and sit down with my laptop. (“We don’ got to show you no steenking tractor.”)
My heart is with the green grass, apple trees, and lilacs. My head’s with the 90-mile view.