How strange is it to love our house on the lake here in Ohio and to love my room and my chair and my window where the cats sit and look for birds; I love sitting on the deck in the morning and having my coffee and watching the dogs play in the our quiet yard or sit at the dining room table and look out at the deck where the bird feeders are. I love all that and still, at the same time I feel like a piece of my heart stays in the desert forever. How can I love the desert with every fiber of my being even while I love it here with Rachael and Michael just as much?
I’m already anxious for the big skies and the open space across the miles to the mountain that I look at from my bedroom window at Notah’s. I’m anxious to see if the roadrunner still makes his rounds of the front yard in the mornings and to listen for the mocking bird in the tree just out from the kitchen window. And I want to smell the fragrance of sage brush and juniper on the morning air as I sit at my door to welcome the rising sun like any good Navajo.
Here in Ohio I have a beautiful desert room with golds and browns and deep deep orange. I have my mother’s Navajo rugs on the walls and my horse herd picture on the one wall with the cowboys and mountain picture on the other wall. It’s a room that fits me perfectly.
And in New Mexico I have a cozy room, not as large, equally cozy and comfy. But I don’t need a big room when the whole desert is right there on the other side of the window. Look! How can you not love this? Don't talk to me about the desolate desert!
I love it! (Oh yes. These aren't clouds. Manzano Mountain had a massive forest fire two years ago. Kerra took a picture of the smoke cloud for me.)
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