Lighten Up

cholla with Indian paintbrushes

So many flowers in the terrible high desert this year

What if it’s all nonsense?
What if there’s nothing to be afraid of?
What if the past doesn’t matter?
What if it doesn’t exist (how could it)?
What if everything is conjured?
What if you don’t have to do anything?
What if it’s all emotional?
What if there isn’t a “right way”?
What if anything can happen?
What if it doesn’t matter?
What if I’ve driven her crazy?
What if I give love instead of pain?
What if you can do whatever you want?
What if it’s all malleable?
What if everything’s okay?
What if nobody really dies?
What if you died and never knew?
What if it’s all right to laugh?
What if you found a million dollars?
What if you leave your mother’s ashes in the storage unit?
What if the cat can think?
What if it was only you who made it hurt?
What if you got stoned and forgot?
What if the bad stuff was comedy?
What if I made it all up?
What if you had no regrets?
What if you needed no plan?
What if you turned up the music?
What if you made some?
What if you didn’t mind anything?
What if nothing was ever too late?

Magic of the Day (Video)

I think this one speaks for itself. A neighbor was out on horseback grazing his goats and sheep along the acequia yesterday morning with the help of his dogs. Always a wonderful sight. No video of him today, but look at those critters!

North County Vista

north of Questa

Photobombed by dragonfly

We drove up north of Questa on Sunday to see a house about 45 minutes from Taos. It’s on a crazy bad road like everything else and really not for us but oh so inexpensive. Plucked the strings of my cheap little heart it did. When we got home I mentioned it was modular and she asked me what that meant. Like Helen’s doublewide in Tucson I said and she said no with great conviction. The above view is from farther up the road. Wild Rivers Visitor Center, Rio Grande del Norte National Monument to be exact, damn close to the house in question.

It’s a whole other world up here. Seven or eight hundred feet higher so it gets more snow. Very green this year. Wildflowers and grass, deciduous trees. The air is insanely clean. We stayed up north as long as we could. Taos is ridiculous garbage compared to some of these places you would not believe could be so isolated. I put high value on the latter but there comes a time you know and we are still accelerating toward oblivion.

Oriole Hordes

Bullock’s Oriole

Bullock’s Oriole. Hope he doesn’t want it back.

There’s a zillion of ’em now. I just spotted five at once on three different hummingbird feeders. No idea why this year of all years the air is full of yellow-orange birds. [Hit the links below ↓ too.] Metaphysical compensation perhaps.

Real Taos

garbage dump and vista near Taos

West of the gorge on the Taos Plateau

This morning was hard. My wife looked at me and asked how we got trapped in this “funny little town.” I thought but did not say: because we didn’t plan for the future and I let you down and prices have tripled. Silence was sufficient and the moment soon passed.

Later I did speak. We could always move to a little college town in the Midwest, I said. Right now there are half a dozen beautiful older homes with big porches and nice yards for sale in such-and-such wherever. You’d never be able to stand it, she said. That’s probably true. Give up my dreams and share space with Trump voters. Nothing but white people. Hot sticky summers and endless gray winters. Drive two days to see mountains and be able to breathe again.

And then I persisted: I’d do it for you, I lied. She practically screamed. I grew up in the Midwest and I’m not going back.

In my heart of hearts I’m successful and we go wherever we want. I’m not too old to move and the future is bright. We both have new glasses and hearing aids and nice clothes. There are friends and vacations and nobody dies.


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