I wanted to write about this new thing that happened and don’t know if I can. Some things, I mean…sometimes you… It all goes back to ancient times of growing up. A certain kind of energy. It makes you do things unawares. You see people and situations as you think they are because this energy is there. You learn to trust, but only just so far. The limits start from where the narrative begins, the thing the energy made you think. It’s always someone else’s fault, until you see it’s not.
Back soon! I’ve been busy designing a book for someone else, believe it or not. In the meantime, have a gander at a timelapse video of a remarkable event that takes place every year just down the road. I’ve never seen so many balloons at once as in this video. Read the videographer’s own description here. Great job!
Aligning with the universe for dummies
I can’t believe how good it looks, for all the lunacy and exile boojum soaked into the ground. I can’t believe that elm tree hasn’t fallen yet and taken out the wall. I can’t believe a bear broke half a pear tree down right after I moved in, and the rest took ten years to die. I can’t believe I clean the chimney with a stick. I can’t believe the piñon burns so hot. I can’t believe this works so well, for all the useless desperation of the past. New Mexico, they got this down. The basic stuff was always here.
Telephoto shot, of course. They’re very skittish.
Most Americans call these antelope. I know we do. That’s not what they are, though, and it would be more accurate to call them “pronghorns.” Although Antilocapra americana evolved under the same conditions as Old World antelope and (except for their horns) are physiologically very similar, the animals are unique. According to Wikipedia:
[The pronghorn] is the only surviving member of the family Antilocapridae. During the Pleistocene period, 12 antilocaprid species existed in North America. About five existed when humans entered North America, but all except A. americana are now extinct.
It’s always a joy to see them. I think one reason is that they’re symbols of the West. “Where the deer and the antelope play,” etc. You’ll only find them in high desert or grasslands—open country, undeveloped land, any place one might graze cattle. Not in the mountains, not in the trees. I know a couple who went up to Washington State once from Taos to check out places to live. They didn’t like it, though, and said it rained a lot. But on their return trip, they saw some “antelope” in southern Colorado and felt like they were almost home. There’s something reassuring about the beasts, all right.
We spotted this bunch and quite a few others on the road from Cimarron to Rayado, NM. That particular stretch of highway follows the path of the original Santa Fe Trail established in 1821. My God, the history! I get chills just thinking of it. Kit Carson had a ranch nearby, too. Rayado is a ghost town now, in tip-top shape however, thanks to the Boy Scouts of America and the Philmont Scout Ranch. I need to go back soon and visit the Kit Carson Museum and the reconstructed Santa Fe Trail stage stop. One afternoon just doesn’t cut it where the mountains meet the plains.
Afternoon of the Antelope
Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to be here. Other times I want to shoot myself, but still. I think the lucky stuff is winning out. It’s kind of been a long time. I used to drive to Washington, D.C. and Baltimore. The freeways were all walled in. You couldn’t see a thing. I told myself, that’s just crazy, this is no damn way to live. We saw this guy just south of Cimarron about sixty miles from Taos. I only passed one car going our direction. Wild animals beside the road. There’s still no snow, my wife is beautiful, and I’m not dead. Sometimes I can’t believe it, you know, how lucky I am.
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