Robin and I were comparing notes, and he started by quoting a little poetry (not that this is odd):
“Hipsters, flipsters, and finger snapping daddies….”
(Lawrence Ferlengetti, be my guess, as I guessed at the spelling, not having a library or net access to check anything).
I was meandering about and I was struck, once again, by the quality of the blue sky. It’s a southern New Mexico shade of blue, not to be confused with the yellow light in the northern New Mexico mountains and high dessert. A quality, as much as anything, a way the light shines, the effect of the sun, and it sometimes makes me feel like this is just a little closer to heaven.
Not everyone will agree that the high dessert, or that the Franklin Mountains can be a little closer to heaven, but this past weekend, the sun was out, the clouds were fleecy, and the sunsets sparkled off the western flank of the mountain, drawing out the ochre and magenta shading, against the relief of the ridges, gullies, and arroyos.
A recent set of rainstorms has actually left the grasses, what sparse bits there are, long and green. A special place, but according to some, not that much to see.
I like it, but I’m just a transient here.
