WOW! – went to bed watching a snow storm, dreamed of being in a swirl of snow, woke up to a blizzard.
Last weekend the girls and I put in the Peruvian white and Taos white corn seeds. All of us got a touch of sun on our skin.
Sunday afternoon a couple of the Kiva brothers had a “bro” version of a Mother’s Day Barbeque for me and the girls. We also had a a fair amount of over 70 degrees of warmth.
HAHA! – feels like the day before Halloween – now we’re a few days shy of Thanksgiving.
Ski valleys got dumped on. However, they have been closed for a month already. Horses have shed their winter coats and my poor hummingbird friend that bounces around from feeder to apple blossoms had a new girlfriend. He seemed happy just the day before. Now their frozen feathers flutter – an argument of why did I journey up here to this freezing cold.
The tricky wild plumb and apple blossoms who felt clever in sprouting out a bit later are brown and many have fallen to the ground. To say the least, everything froze.
Grandpa laughed when he heard that white folks on the east coast watched a rodent to tell if it was going to snow or not, “Rodents can’t tell if it’s gonna snow” he said. “It’s the Buffaloes that hold the snow in their hooves.” “Watch how they run and stomp the ground, they’re the ones who call the snow.”
The small herd of buffalo that the tribe has must be thinned out twice a year. The early part of the year and the fall/winter months. Guess what they did this weekend, however, a bit too late.
I have to believe that’s why the snow comes.
It’s no big secret that the land that is seen from the Old Taos town is a mysterious and majestic place. The mountain constantly looming over us, watching us to see if we will make a mistake. We will. Everyday and every night we make the misty mistakes. Failure is a beautiful thing – when we learn from it. It puts the watchers in a hazy quandary.
The spring-run-off has been running for over a month and the head gates are still closed, and the plowing has been difficult in dry fields.
The mistakes of few is the demise of many… The few who have decided to lease our water to the southern states, “they”, whoever they are demand more from us. How can you give away something that isn’t yours, sad times. Maybe that’s why it snowed and froze humming bird feathers along with the burned up wild plum and chokecherry blossoms that will be gone from us.
Money doesn’t grow on trees – plums do…
Maybe we have made one too many dumb mistakes, and the mountain really is fed up with us making way too many mistakes and not learning from them, I want to believe that everything is a blessing and when it all fades to grey and the quiet man stands alone looking it is a blessing, a very profound blessing.
Welcome my new readers and old, welcome to the changing world where soon we will be doing the hydrochloric acid rain dance.
HEY YA! HEY YA! HEY YA! HO!