Now that is one very happy willow tree. Imagine having your roots growing close to an irrigation ditch all your life—talk about a metaphor! It’s a significant thing here in the terrible high desert when the mayordomos open the gates and let the water through. The surroundings become electrified and alive—more than anything else, this change marks the turn of seasons here. We drive past this spot almost every day, and the flowing water is a wonderful thing to see.
Should be seventy degrees by Friday
It’s been snowing off and on for two days now. The road’s a muddy mess—the craters are now lakes—but at least it’s above freezing. Clumps of wet snow are falling off the trees, just like they’re supposed to, and our driveway isn’t too bad yet. Yet, I say. I’m still trying to squeak by without buying more wood this season, so I hope the weather obliges a bit more. My wife keeps saying things like, “But it’s April seventeenth!”
The photo above is from my new iPhone 6s Plus, by the way, and I only tweaked it a tiny bit. The aspect ratio is different (taller), and I like it that way versus cropped to match my Pentax shots. As usual, if you’re reading this on a Retina device, the server loads a high-resolution version you can zoom into, especially cool to try on an iPad.
Definitely noticed us but didn’t mind too much
We saw these female bighorn sheep hopping over boulders at the bottom of the gorge near the Rio Grande. Some of the rocks are full of holes from gases trapped while the minerals were in a molten state. The geology of this place is only partly known to me, but they look like chunks of lava (basalt). The stuff is everywhere in the volcano lands of northern New Mexico. These enormous chunks have fallen from the top of the cliffs some eight hundred feet above—be glad you weren’t there at the time! The bighorns themselves were on the opposite bank, but almost close enough to hit by throwing something at them.
What a privilege to be here
We were driving along the Rio Grande a few miles north of Pilar at the southern end of the Rio Grande del Norte National Monument when we spotted about a dozen female bighorn sheep in two separate groups, one of which was moving down toward the river to drink. After parking in a day use area, we followed a meandering path through dense growth, emerging at a sandy beach by the water’s edge. There they were on the opposite bank, walking slowly in our direction! We stayed and watched a very long time. It was totally enthralling. They were close enough to hear the shutter clicking on my DSLR and turned to face me several times, but that was all the notice they took. I wonder if the river between us kept them calm?
This spot is less than thirty minutes away from the house. That’s the way it is here, drive a little ways and living Nature bites you in the ass. It boggles the mind, I tell you. In most parts of the world, you’d have to be wealthy and own a bunch of land to see such things with no one else around. Here you can be poor and crazy, driving down the road—there’s almost never anyone else around, and stuff just happens. I told my wife that this encounter was very much like when we went up to Colorado to see the cranes. It’s a spiritual experience. There’s a definite high, an altered state of consciousness. and you know you’re connected to something greater than yourself. It grounds you and straightens you out. If you’re lucky, the reverence stays with you for the rest of your days, and you instinctively do the right things.
Compensatory beauty, always appreciated!
Forging ahead here, doing what must be done! Yes, I took that picture about two hours ago. Even though this is April 1 and no one can be trusted, I swear that’s the real deal, deposited overnight. It can start being spring whenever it wants to, as far as I’m concerned, but no one ever listens to me. Fortunately, almost all the white stuff you see here will be long gone by late this afternoon, and the forecast calls for almost seventy degrees on Monday. Hah!
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