Taos

No, El Senor has bigger plans, for me, I think. He wants me to DISSOLVE THE BOUNDARY BETWEEN WHAT I WANT AND WHAT THERE IS, the dirty karma-swilling Bastard. No doubt one can take that either way, but probably it’s both, and a helluva lot better than never trying at all.

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In this case, that’s something of an oxymoron, but read on!
My 1987 Ford pickup truck (F-150) was parked at the top of our impassable driveway (MUD!), on the side of the all-but-impassable road that hasn’t been graded in over four years. The truck pretty much lives up there for half of the year, because that’s [...]

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We moved to Taos 10 and a half years ago. That was a revolution in its own right, forcing reinvention on all fronts. As is often the case with me, however, I managed not to go the extra mile and left the thing unfinished.

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It’s not my fault, I tell you. A Brazilian jazz guitarist wants to be an ex-taxi driver and move to Taos. That and news in today’s Sunday El Norte Report.

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It’s time for another one of these.
No story this time, just something to enjoy. This is a telephoto view of part of the Talpa valley, on the other side of the Rio Grande del Rancho, with the usual splendor in the background. I took this about three weeks ago. A wider view would [...]

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It was 3° F (-16 C) when I went to bed last night. The ice still covers most of the inside of the windows in the living room this morning at 8:00 a.m.
Just now when I went outside in my mangy bathrobe to pour the birds a couple scoops of sunflower seeds, my ancient [...]

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“I know you like to be scared,” she said, “but I don’t!”
She went on to share what she called a “radical thought.” As I listened, I thought, good Lord, has she been reading my blog? Because what she told me wasn’t radical at all and echoed what I’d been wondering lately, too–namely, what about living [...]

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Every 10 days or so, I have to go up on the roof and rattle a long wooden pole around inside the chimney to knock the stuff off. Trouble is, this almost always happens with some coals still in the stove, and the updraft sends an evil black belch right up into my face unless I remember to duck. Hippie chimney cleaning, I call it.

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In the morning, the big windows in the living room are covered with ice. On the indside, I mean. (Thick, too.) The old window frames have little raised edges to hold the water that collects when the ice melts. We lay old towels down to soak up the water, wring them out, and hang them by the stove to dry.

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I have to admit, I could probably skip winter. Next someone will ask me why I’m living in a place that has nine months of it, but I’ll have little to say until I get the fire built up.
This old adobe we live in is heated entirely with wood. Well, there’s a gas wall heater [...]

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