Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Heard it was eleven degrees in Bradford last night.  Ahhh.
Sunny and cool here - probably in the low 60s.  We had
planned on gathering mesquite so we could cook ribs over
a mesquite fire. We set off up a dirt road into the hills around
T or C. 

The desert has a raw, just-born sort of beauty.  The colors
all in the dun, tan, manila, gray, brown range.  Hollows
and hills, mounds, eroded gullies.  The mesquite is gray and
thorny - thorns about an inch long and you don't want to argue
with them.  It's brittle and snaps off easily and it didn't take us
long to fill a box.

The other plant just beginning to green up here is chaparral,
with waxy leaves that smell of desert rain when you rub them.

We brought our mesquite back to Starry Nights and
Monica revved up the cooker and laid on the ribs when
the fire was right.  So fresh spinach salad, garlic potatoes,
and ribs.  Quite a feast.  And this morning, the courtyard
smells of mesquite (and my clothes too).

Heading for the last roundup here - driving to Albuquerque
tomorrow to meet up with poet Jules Nyquist in Old Town
who graciously is providing me with a place to stay.  My
plane leaves early Friday morning and too soon I'll be back
in my boots and parka, shoveling.