I look out at Hermits Peak in New Mexico glowing fantastically in early day light. I let my eyes relax. My natural gaze, not reaching or glazing, just my eyes relaxing on this vision, leaning my visual capacity against the beauty. The wind swirls around me, sweet with the rain that tamped down the dust yesterday. Having the morning quiet to feel my eyes look and see, because so often they scan what is there and trigger it into what isn’t there, or take a shard of something– a table edge or a pine tree, for instance — and turn it into another tree from another time, mixing the two trees into one tree rather than just seeing what is right there Read more
Posts tagged ‘ravenrock’
Late September on Apache Mesa
A towhee rustles in the scrub oak. For this I love the oak.
Sun dimples two bright dots on rounded haunches of the blue ceramic Japanese tea cup Kathy gave me. Its delicate craquelure beneath shiny lacquer is a map to unknown lands. My heart wanders along these, digressing languidly. All the inner maps in my life. Read more
Late September, Apache Mesa
Ric and I discover a large spider, the size of a first thumb joint, outside the cabin window. Every day just after sunset, she weaves a capacious web. It takes 45 minutes. By the time she is finished, it is dark. She sits in the middle. Within a half hour dinner is snagged—the past two evenings it has been an ethereal white moth with silver eyes. By morning, she has packed up her web. No sign at all. I wonder what time of night she does this but have never been awake to see it. She has been in residence for a week. Read more
I wrote this in late September at Ravenrock:
I walk onto the deck in twilight that feels as if it is hurried along, as if the wind dashes over the crest snapping a whip, urging the light, which gathers birds and butterflies in its graying arms, away from this summer haunt to other regions south of the equator. Yes, it is no longer summer. Read more
Waking to the Snake
Yesterday, I stumbled out of the cabin at dawn to empty my pee can and startled a rattlesnake. It was curled at the edge of my doorway. I froze, it wound. I quickly backed my naked self inside the cabin but had to make sure that, yes, it was a rattler with the large jaws, the dusty diamonds and, of course, the rattle which it shook at me. The sound is wilder and edgier than I had imagined it would be. We were now both alarmed. Read more
Yes, its a saga.
I began with ideas and a gorgeous, ideal architectural drawing from Dana Bixby. I sent these to five contractors in New Mexico. Two were swamped, one backed away due to conflict of interest, one is still working on an estimate two months later, and one gave me a detailed, transparent estimate which, though fair, was so far out of range that I was very, very demoralized Read more
I sat on the deck with my neighbor Tom Walker last night. He had come over to help refine the downspout to my cistern. Tom, a young 70, is lively and strong. He likes to chat. Though we spent half an hour mulling the downspout, conversation reliably and continuously digressed. (The major aspect of doing projects with neighbors is to hang out.) At last we sat on the deck. The sun was declining, tossing a glorious rosy light across the canyon. Tom, scruffy from a day’s work, ignored the view and relating to me in detail about constructing his septic line—hitting soft dirt, then rock, then soft dirt, then rock. Read more