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Most of the time, I know what this bloom is. But my brain said, “Not today, bobo”.
Amaranth, or as I prefer to call it, Love-Lies-Bleeding. I used to grow this from seed in the Circle Bed in the Cozy House gardens.
Some form of …Daisy?
Crème de la Roses.
You can try, but you can’t tame a wild rose.
The bushiest Lantana that I’ve ever seen.

MKL is amazed that I know the names of so many plants. Fair enough, since I’m impressed that he knows the names and functions of every BMW part, no matter how tiny or insignificant-looking.

Daily gratitudes:

  • MKL
  • The Jackalope Lady
  • The gentleman with the cowboy hat and gold lame fanny pack
  • How pretty I felt last night
  • Nick, my GPS navigator

Mostly taken through the windshield, so no one get their hopes up about quality.

Just ride though the notch by the butte to find me.
Storm before Trinidad.
Storm after Raton.
From the Best Little Rest Stop in the West..
Blue and Green.
You belong among the wildflowers.
Peaking.
In we go! And it was a doozy!
The road ahead.

Next stop — Santa Fe Opera. Gussying up for Falstaff tonight.

Daily gratitudes:

  • MKL
  • A hotel that’s a smidge swanky
  • That my COVID test was negative (even though I feel like crap)
  • A good cat sitter
  • Clouds. Always clouds.

Daily gratitudes:

  • Hummingbird frenzy
  • Work
  • Fans
  • Books
  • Tomorrow’s adventure

Daily gratitudes:

  • Finding a pump for the hot tub
  • Hummingbird Mania
  • Cool afternoons
  • Sunflowers rising
  • Cat Tail Communication
This is what greeted us when we arrived for our stay at Los Palomas.

Daily gratitudes:

  • Changing sides
  • Cats
  • Vegetable soup
  • Tickets

I sometimes think that all works of art are born somehow of fire. Words burn in a writer’s brain, unforgiving until they can spill upon page. Motion burns from the core of a dancer’s muscles. Paintings are licks of flame risen from a spirit through a brush to a canvas. Even in photography, there is a burning peaceful need to capture what is seen by one set of eyes into something that can be seen by others, a sharing of the embers of the photographer’s vision. The center of the earth that we walk on each day is made of fire, and it passes through layers of rock and soil and the skin of the soles of our feet to the center of the souls of our being, and must be expressed somehow.

In this sculpture studio, we found the purest expression of the creative fire, molten iron casually poured by men protected from its destructive power, men looking like creatures from the center of the earth themselves, men who controlled the flow of creativity, channeling it into molds and frames, containing it, shaping it, melding with it, as it fashioned itself through the sculptors hands into art, cold to the touch but still retaining that fire within. As we all do.

It reminded me that art can be dirty and primal and beautiful, full of heat and passion and practicality all at the same time, blending hotly and gently to create an artist’s ever-imperfect vision, for imperfection is the nature of art as viewed by the artist, and what makes them strive to improve always, trying to touch that fiery core with their bare hands, capture it, rejoice in it, and share it.

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Shidoni, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Quote of the day: “I used to know a sculptor… He always said that if you looked hard enough, you could see where each person carried his soul in his body. It sounds crazy, but when you saw his sculptures, it made sense. I think the same is true with those we love… Our bodies carry our memories of them, in our muscles, in our skin, in our bones. My children are right here.” She pointed to the inside curve of her elbow. “Where I held them when they were babies. Even if there comes a time when I don’t know who they are anymore. I believe I will feel them here.” — Erica Bauermeister

Daily gratitudes:
Brief flashes of clarity
Some time with Kelsea
Realizing creative necessities
Water
Beach time soon come

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell, especially when depression shadows you, constantly grabbing for your hand to hold you back. Even when I know the things I need to do to come out from a bout, I sabotage myself by not doing them. Sigh.

IMG_8419Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Quote of the day: “When you’re lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered off the path, that you’ll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it’s time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.” — Elizabeth Gilbert

Daily gratitudes:
Rabbits
Clean dishes
An empty drawer
Birds flying in formation
The Olympics

Save

I don’t know if this means it’s a sale on Big Jesuses or if it’s a big sale that encompasses all Jesuses, but either way the sign struck my fancy. I mean, you can’t buy Jesus. He’s way too ethical for that. I don’t actually recall even seeing any Jesuses at this interesting and chock-full shop that popped up on the other edge of Cerrillos Road from Jackalope, which it is trying to resemble. It was worth a stop on the way out of town.

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Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Quote of the day: “I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.” — Anne Lamott

Daily gratitudes:
The light smell of rain
A peek-a-boo sunset
Shared experiences
Good books
Clean sheets

The rooftop bar at La Fonda Hotel is scorching in the summer at cocktail time, so they have been most considerate in putting up canopies that shield the sun while unveiling the sky. We have had enough hot in our western world in the month of July, and while I would never expect to hear myself say it, I am looking forward to cooler weather. If I must be hot, then let me be by a beach. Soon.

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Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Quote of the day: “We love easily in summer, perhaps, because we love our summer selves.” — John Updike

Daily gratitudes:
The look in MKL’s eyes and reassurance of his presence
Kelsea and early adult heartache
My bracelet from Tam
Random exercise
A suspected new comrade

My fascination with doorways, about which, I’ve written before, continues. I am not the only photographer was a passion for windows and doors, though my passion extends to porches as well. Perhaps it’s the secrets that lie behind those doors, all the life that exists back there, but to which I am simply blind. I do love it when old lace currents hide interior secrets.  That’s how I want my home to be. I have always wanted lace curtains, providing only mysterious and tempting flashes of my inner world. And a romantic touch of balcony merely adds to the dream.

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Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Quote of the day: “Always seek justice, but love only mercy. To love justice and hate mercy is but a doorway to more injustice.” — Criss Jami

Daily gratitudes:
The Corazon is back from vacation
Missing MKLThe Great British Baking Show
Plans and dreams
Avoiding the cursing, flailing, screaming homeless man on the corner of Work and Work

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