Just Waitin'
Due to the dry climate, there are a lot of relics in New Mexico and Arizona. Some have two legs and others have four wheels. I found this one at an old Shell station outside Bisbee, AZ. From my perspective, it appears the car and the wall are in a contest to see who will crumple into a heap first. For the moment, the car appears to be holding up better.
Arise and Go
I’m not sure when my body decided to shift gears from being a late sleeper to an early riser, but, figuratively speaking, it opened a lot of doors for me. I get to experience the joys of sunrises and watch cities and towns come alive. I am privileged to see people ending their shifts and others who are starting theirs.
My childhood was a time when it was normal to leave the keys in the ignition of your car and church doors were always open. I accept the reasons why those things have changed, but continue to mourn their passing. For me there is still something very spiritual about being alone in a church and just sitting quietly in reflection. I have a fondness for old churches, especially those with stained glass windows that tell stories and pews whose finish has been worn away from so much use. Whether it’s a cathedral with a soaring ceiling or a small country church with simple scrollwork on the ends of the pews, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I sense a spiritual connection.
The Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine is such a place. With St. Augustine being the oldest city in the U.S., the Cathedral Basilica lays claim to being America’s first parish. The interior is beautiful and offers respite from the many tourist attractions in the ancient city. On this morning I found one of the priests dutifully placing leaflets about the day’s services in the pews. Certainly not a glorious task, but a necessary one.
A Quiet Walk
There is much to like about Santa Fe and, for me, one of the most enjoyable is walking some of the old neighborhoods. There are many different tones used in the adobe walls and I like to see the small artistic touches in the courtyard doors and entryways. This one has tile inserts on each side and uses a length of rope to operate what I would call “Ring Doorbell 1.0” It’s good to be able to walk back in time for a while then retreat to an air conditioned restaurant for a great meal and a margarita.
#lovetheoldandlovethemodern
Simple Things
In “Kodachrome” Paul Simon states “Everything looks worse in black and white.” It’s a great lyric and fits perfectly with the song, but in my experience there are lots of things that look better in black and white.
I love the interplay of light and shadow. This image was created while walking around Bisbee, AZ, a great town to visit if you enjoy climbing hills and walking stairs.
On The Santa Fe Trail
I'm standing on the side of a road that runs through the prairie between Las Vegas, NM and Fort Union. As I survey the area in all directions I realize there are only two people in about 20 square miles...me and my buddy, Geraint. The wind is whipping the prairie grass hard enough to make it rattle and there is a storm moving in. The two old buildings in the distance look like toy houses under the mass of clouds gathering overhead.
The ruts you see in the field were made by covered wagons traveling the Santa Fe Trail over 150 years ago. Imagine being on that trail with your family. All of your possessions are in that 4' x 12' wooden box with a canvas top. It's creaking and squeaking as you bounce along the trail and you're headed into the teeth of this storm. The horses are getting skittish and this will be the third time in a week that you and everything you own has gotten soaked. There is no cover and you are at the mercy of the elements. Aaahh...the good old days.
Today, when the storm gets closer, we get back into the black Dodge Charger the rental company gave me and crank up the Sirius XM radio. Fortunately, the horses under my hood aren't skittish and in a few minutes we have put some distance between ourselves and the bad weather. We have options the pioneers didn't. There are a lot of folks I know who have storage places much larger than 4' x 12' to keep things they don't have room for at home.
The difference between pioneers and settlers is that settlers wait to hear the pioneers say, "It's safe. You can come up here now."
Big Storm, Little House
This is another example of how remote some homes are in the countryside of the western states.. Capulin, CO is a wide spot in the road and this place is well outside there. As we approached the area clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. Within a few minutes the temperature dropped and there were sheets of rain followed by hail. Ten minutes later there was sunshine and a rainbow. Awesome and a bit frightening at the same time.
American Ingenuity
American ingenuity on display. That bunch of old Orange Crush signs your wife wants you to get rid of can be repurposed into very attractive covering for your garage or shed doors.
Can you imagine how happy she will be when when you get her this as a birthday or anniversary present? Yeah, me neither. I suspect the guy in Fayette, AL who put these up may be a bachelor. 😂
The Pioneer Spirit
When traveling I like to listen to local radio stations to get a flavor for regional music, news, and weather. I get a reminder of what a wide, open, land New Mexico is when I hear the weather announcer say, "Today's visibility...70 miles." The distance between many of the smaller towns is significant. Getting on some of the less traveled roads and seeing where folks chose to build their homes makes me wonder why that location was selected. With no trees, no apparent source of water, far off the main road, and no neighbors or a town within miles, what led these settlers to stake their claims on these particular pieces of land?
I'm sure there are some interesting stories about how the choices were made. All I know is they were a lot more self-sufficient than I am. I have a lot of respect for pioneers.
Sunrise - Anastasia State Park near St. Augustine. FL
The Mystery of How My Mind Works
At the outset l will say I am grateful that my mind still works. How it functions has been and continues to be a great puzzle for me. Beyond basic addition, subtraction, division and multiplication, math has always been a challenge. Geometry theorems confused me, algebra gave me a semester long headache, and I'm pretty sure statistics almost created an aneurysm. I passed chemistry because my lab partner was brilliant. I liked math and the sciences but was unable to grasp anything except the basic concepts. With all that negative experience it would be reasonable to expect that I would block out any memories that have numbers associated with them. It seems to be just the opposite.
I remember our first two phone numbers: 377Y2 and 459L. I recall my grandparent's number (Skyline 6-2230) and their party line ring of one long and three shorts. I can tell you the addresses of the places I've lived, those phone numbers, and most of the zip codes, too.
Why was I not able to grasp the difference between theorems and postulates, but can recite the '65 Yankees batting order? Why could I not remember that through any three noncollinear points there exists exactly one plane, but can quote dialogue from any number of obscure movies and TV shows I watched years ago? I've certainly consumed enough alcohol that I should have its chemical formula on speed dial in my brain, but I don't. However, if you would like to hear the lyrics from pop, rock, or folk music from the 60's through the 80's, I'm your guy.
This morning, I read an interview with John Prine in which he stated, "When I get up in the morning, I'm 9 years old between my ears. I'm not a 72-year-old man until I get in front of a mirror." That's pretty close to how I feel and walking on the beach is great place to sort out these mysteries. My suggestion is to get there early.
Slow Down. See More.
The Barrio Viejo is a great place to walk and get a flavor of old and new Tucson. Brightly colored homes, decorative ironwork, and gorgeous flowers in the Spring. I was lucky enough to see these Palo Verde blossoms isolated against a dark red wall.
The Land of Enchantment
According to the slogan on the license plates, New Mexico is The Land of Enchantment and there are certainly parts of the state that are enchanting. The scenery is breathtaking, you can see for miles in every direction, and the people are friendly. For me, New Mexico is the state of contradictions. Coexisting side by side with all that beauty is abject poverty and lots of trash. Signs pointing to Historical Districts are in abundance in New Mexico, but it’s often difficult to discern the truly historical from the tired, run down, and shabby structures that are more prevalent.
There’s a different vibe about the place that both attracts and repels me. I like that most of the places I visit there are laid back. Unfortunately, because it’s laid back you can’t believe the signs on businesses that say “Open”. The hours posted might mean they could be open any of those times or the place just might be closed on that day. Local folks just roll with it. Me, not so much.
The artist in me appreciates the liberal use of murals and wall art throughout the state. I enjoy the widespread practice of people placing items on their window sills for passers by to admire. On the other hand, I’m not a fan of the yards filled with dead cars, old refrigerators, air conditioners, and broken furniture though there can be beauty in decay and oxidation.
For every place that someone is trying to bring back to life there seems to be ten that are slowly returning to the dust. If New Mexico had a state sign, there would be a three way tie between Closed, No Trespassing, and This Property Under Video Surveillance.
New Mexicans appear to be pragmatic when it comes to repairs and functionality far outweighs any artistic considerations. I have never seen so much plywood used to repair broken windows. What was intended as a temporary fix often lasts years. Electrical wiring in some places resembles what I’ve seen in third world countries.
Lest this sound critical, it is not. It’s pretty easy for me to suspend my judgment while I’m there. I always see more beautiful things than I did on the trip before and I’m consistently treated well by the folks I meet. I’m already planning my next trip.
Fort Union, New Mexico
Fort Union, New Mexico
From 1851 to 1891 Fort Union stood at the intersection of the Mountain and Cimarron branches of the Santa Fe Trail. It served as an anchor point as the population of our country moved west providing protection, a place for trade, and a supply station for wagon trains. Santa Fe is about 100 miles away and there is nothing but prairie in every direction for as far as you can see...and out here you can see a long way.
The folks who served at Fort Windy, as they called it, faced a lot of hardships. Enlisted men pulled a five year hitch and were paid $13 per month. Married couples with or without children were allotted a 20 x 18 room.
Fort Union is a great place to visit if you like to see the history of our country’s western development up close. As you walk around the ruins, I encourage you to pay attention to the signs warning you to watch for rattlesnakes. The one I almost stepped on blended in perfectly with the rocks on the trail.
Do You Think They Know We're Different?
This is not a complex structure, but it contains a big idea. All the blocks are uniform and of the same tone except for two, which are close to the center. They are part of the structure and share a lot of common elements with the other blocks, but they look different. They don’t fit in. So, the question becomes, how does one assimilate while holding on to our unique qualities? Which is better, a fruit smoothie where everything gets blended together or a fruit salad where you can experience individual flavors?
This installation is in the Sculpture Garden, which is part of the Hirschhorn Museum and I’m not sure of the artist’s name or the title of the piece. All I know is that it grabbed my attention and then it made me think. It is my belief that all good art does that.
After The Storm
I’m in Washington D.C. and about to get caught in a nasty storm. Luckily, I’m close to the Hirschhorn Museum so I take shelter there. I ride out the storm going from exhibit to exhibit until I look out a window and see the wind has slacked and the rain has stopped. From my vantage point over the courtyard I notice a number of tables and chairs have been moved around by the straight line winds. The sky has started to brighten which makes the chairs glisten from the rain. There was nothing remarkable about these chairs before the rain, but now the reflected light and water droplets combine with the stainless steel surfaces to create a compelling image that looks much better in black and white.
Little Treasures
In general I do not frequent flea markets and any place that markets itself as a junk shop, especially if they spell it “junque.” Yet there are times when one of those places pulls me into their parking lot and I stroll inside to see what is for sale. I often find a very laid back proprietor and an equally laid back cat stretched out on a chair. Neither of them appears to be interested in moving much.
Today’s adventure takes me into a small house where each room has a theme and the items in the room match or have a connection to the theme. There are a couple of real customers in there with me and they find some items they want to purchase. I move quickly from room to room while they’re bartering with the owner, who patiently explains why they have to pay sales tax. By the time I enter the back room, which focuses on housewares, I have looked up, down, and all around without finding anything of real visual interest. Then I spot these three plates propped up in the window. The overlap, transparency, and pattern all combine to create something I find visually compelling.
I walked in with low expectations and for most of my time there those were met. That all changed in an instant. Sometimes long shots pay off.
Finding Images
Images present themselves to me in various ways. Sometimes they seem to jump up and down screaming for my attention. Others are coy, playing hard to get. They make me work for a while before revealing themselves. Then there are those like this one. I’ve walked by this at least a hundred times, thought about it, and kept walking. It had possibilities, but I just didn’t see how to create something of interest to me. Today, I stopped and took a longer look. Then I climbed on the base of a nearby pillar and it all came together. I love the red and the repeating elements.
Keep coming back. Keep looking. There is joy in finding something new in oft visited places.
Joining Disparate Components To Create A Whole
The folks who created the Freer - Sackler Galleries of the Smithsonian Museum did a masterful job of making a place that is both a work of art and a great place to view art. You can look in almost any direction and see something that is visually attractive. Skylights, archways, lights, windows, and even stairwells. The design of the stairways goes well beyond getting visitors from one place to another and even the placement and style of the handrails was considered in the overall design. When is the last time you wanted to stop on a set of steps and admire the view? This place will make you do that.
https://www.freersackler.si.edu/
Outside Bisbee, AZ
Lost and Found
I’m continually interested in the things I see along the roadside as I travel throughout the U.S. Outside of trash, the most common item is footwear and it is rarely a pair, just one lonely shoe and often they come to rest in very unlikely places. With that in mind, I wonder what was the owner doing when he/she and the shoe parted company? How did only one shoe get lost? How long did it take for the owner to realize the shoe was gone? Why don’t the owners of lost shoes post photos on light posts and in store windows offering a reward for the return of the shoe like pet owners do?
It’s 6:30 AM and I’m leaving Bisbee, AZ on my way to Tucson. The sunlight is making its way over the mountains and I have the highway to myself. I can tell it’s going to be a great day. Then I spot it. I’ve seen lots of discarded baseball and trucker caps, a few hard hats, and even a beret, but until today, I had never seen a cowboy hat on the shoulder. But there it is. Sitting upright and in surprisingly good shape. Hoping the owner’s name might be inside, I lift it to check, but the only tag says 7 1/8. I put the hat back down, get back in the car, and continue my journey thinking about one of my favorite bumper stickers, “I ain’t no cowboy. I just found the hat.”
Ryman Auditorium