It's About Time

TUESDAY. It's 27 degrees. The sun is shining like there's no tomorrow. Within a few hours the temperature will rise to the mid-sixties. This is the kind of day we'd celebrate in the northeast, the kind of day that ended a dreary five-day stretch of drizzle and overcast skies, the kind of day that made us happy to be alive. Here in Albuquerque these days are the norm. I still celebrate them, but far more often.

We were all so exhausted last night we hit the hay at 8:30. I probably would have snuck off to bed at 7:30, but it felt way too strange to retire so early in the evening. Besides, I had to wait for my dinner to digest.

As expected, everyone rose with the sun this morning. I still haven't turned all my clocks back, so I'm never sure what time it is. The three clocks in my office all display different times. One is set at Eastern Time (so I can keep up with my East Coast clients), one is set at Mountain Time, and the third one is still set at Mountain Daylight Time. As I type this, it's either 7:30, 8:30, or 9:30 AM, depending on the direction of my glance. Yes, it makes life interesting, but it's probably time to effect a uniform setting on my clocks. While I enjoy the challenge of deciding whether it's time for breakfast or lunch, I suspect living in parallel dimensions complicates my life needlessly. One time reality is enough.

Does knowing the exact time really matter? Probably not. If we follow the rhythms of the sun, as the birds and trees do, our lives would unfold quite naturally. Birds migrate precisely. In New Hampshire I anticipated the arrival of our spring songbirds to the day. I predicted the exact day our Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks and Hummingbirds would return from winter holiday. Come to think of it, birds are better at showing up on time than I am, and all without a timepiece. Go figure.

Time is a human concept, invented to mark the passage from birth to death. Defined as the Fourth Dimension, time also helps define the movement of three-dimensional objects in our solar system and beyond. Over the ages humans have spent an awful lot of time trying to explain time. My favorite words about time were spoken by Captain Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation: "Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived."

The trees are also very clever about predicting when it's time to drop leaves and hunker down for winter. When days grow shorter, the leaves ignite with a blaze of color. I was told the other day by Sam that leaves don't fall. They're pushed. I think this secret should continue to be well-kept because we really don't want the seasons renamed Winter, Spring, Summer, and Push. Leaves do change color in the southwest, but I miss New England's fiery red maple leaves. Brilliant yellow and orange are quite beautiful, but red is clearly missing from the southwest's arboreal palette.

The other night I watched Chronos, a fascinating DVD by Ron Fricke, producer and director of Baraka, one of my all-time favorite movies. A 40-minute masterpiece created in 1985 and remastered in 2004, Chronos was filmed entirely in time-lapse photography. Like Baraka, Chronos is a non-verbal art film. As its title implies, it's about time. If you're interested in exploring this genre, check out the Spirit of Baraka website for information about more award-winning non-verbal films.

Happy Halloween! I've been waiting several weeks to place all our individually wrapped snack-size candy bars in a large basket by the front door. I pray for few trick or treaters and plentiful leftovers. May you all have plentiful leftovers on this holiday!

And don't forget to cherish the moment, even if it's raining and you're out of chocolate.

Turn Turn Turn (The Byrds)

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear its not too late

The Case For Making One's Bed

TUESDAY. Though I've no propensity for arachnophobia, the thought of living with venomous spiders is, at the very least, unsettling. I found what I believed to be another brown recluse in the house this morning, this time on the wall just above my paper shredder. That makes three. Close examination of the beast with a magnifying glass confirmed my suspicion. The non-toxic pest control method of choice in this house is a fly swatter. It is most effective. The Buddha in me protests, but past experience make it clear that politely asking unwanted insects to leave rarely works.

The internet offers a wealth of information on the brown recluse spider (Loxosceles reclusa), much of it fear-provoking and sensational. Even the more scholarly websites suggest one stay calm if bitten by a brown recluse, don't panic, and proceed immediately to the nearest hospital. Enough said.

What puzzles me is that the range of these critters doesn't include most of New Mexico, yet more and more reports of brown recluses in Albuquerque are surfacing. The maps don't include Florida either, yet rumor tells of these troubling insects hiding in homes in the Sunshine State. We read about wildlife turning up in metropolitan areas--bear, moose, coyote, alligator--as urban development continues to relentlessly destroy wildlife habitats. Green space is disappearing. We hear about climate changes altering migratory patterns of birds and butterflies. And of course, the weather itself is unusually dramatic these days. Earth is no longer the warm, fuzzy planet we knew 50 years ago. It's changing into something we've never seen in our lifetimes. But, I digress.

Though it doesn't explain the expanding range of the brown recluse, many believe insects were, and continue to be, driven into New Mexico homes by heavy rains. The summer monsoons are over, but scattered showers persist. Exterminators are busy. The drought, it appears, is officially over in much of New Mexico.


But back to bugs. Brown recluse spiders like to hide in folded linens, shoes, clothing, bedding, and cardboard boxes (their favorite!). I shudder when I survey the Arachnid Hilton in our back room--dozens of moving boxes neatly stacked in the corner, awaiting our next migration. When you move as often as we do, clean, sturdy moving boxes are worth their weight in gold. But, once more, I digress. The thought of sleeping with spiders gives me no better reason for making my bed immediately on arising to prevent the unwanted invaders from setting up house between my 600 count all-cotton sheets.

Several days ago I found a jumping spider on Murphy. The pup was quietly snoozing and awoke with a start, snapping his neck around to see what was crawling up his rump. Though not a particularly large spider, its bright red body was plainly visible from across the room, slowly climbing up Murphy's sizeable, muscular back. Fortunately, jumping spiders are harmless. I wondered how many other bugs would accept the challenge to scale Mount Murphy.

The recommendations for living with brown recluse spiders sounds like a full-time job to me.

1. Shake out clothing and shoes before getting dressed.
2. Inspect bedding and towels before use.
3. Wear gloves when handling firewood, lumber, and rocks (be sure to inspect the gloves for spiders before putting them on).
4. Remove bedskirts and storage boxes from underneath beds. Move the bed away from the wall.
5. Exercise care when handling cardboard boxes (recluse spiders often are found in the space under folded cardboard flaps).
6. Install tight-fitting screens on windows and doors; also install door sweeps.
7. Seal or caulk cracks and crevices where spiders can enter the house.
8. Install yellow or sodium vapor light bulbs outdoors since these attract fewer insects for spiders to feed upon.
9. Tape the edges of cardboard boxes to prevent spider entry.
10. Use plastic bags (sealed) to store loose items in the garage, basement, and attic.
11. Remove trash, old boxes, old clothing, wood piles, rock piles, and other unwanted items.
12. Eliminate clutter in closets, basements, attics, garages, and outbuildings.
13. Do not stack wood against the house.
14. Clean up dead insects that the brown recluse spider can feed on.
15. Use sticky traps or glueboards to capture spiders.
16. Dust and vacuum thoroughly to remove spiders, webs, and egg sacs (dispose of the vacuum bag in a container outdoors).
17. Use a rolled up newspaper or fly swatter to kill individual spiders.

My remedy seems much easier: Call Triple A Organic Pest Control, and then take a nap.

Santa Fe

TUESDAY. We spent some time in Santa Fe yesterday, enjoying blue skies and cool temperatures so typical of early autumn. As we made our way north on 25, brilliant yellow-orange trees, both captivating and surprising, dotted the desert.

We found a much-coveted metered parking space just off the square in Santa Fe and crammed it full of quarters. Our first stop was the historic Cathedral of St. Francis of Assisi, initially established in the seventeenth century. The present French Romanesque building was completed in 1886 and houses the oldest Madonna in the U.S. I especially enjoyed the spectacular stained glass windows.

Statues of Archbishop Jean Baptiste Lamy, St. Francis, and Kateri Tekakwitha grace the grounds of the Cathedral. Also known as Lily of the Mohawks, Kateri Tekakwitha was born in 1656, daughter of a Mohawk chief and Catholic Algonquin. She was raised in the Mohawk community of Ossernenon, now Auriesville, NY, as part of the turtle clan. This alluring statue was commissioned in 2002 to honor the Native American spirit.




The front doors to the Cathedral were particularly interesting, depicting the history of Santa Fe in bronze.



Jim and Ginger caught some rays on a bench in front of the Cathedral.


We continued our journey around the square, exploring galleries and little shops, occasionally stopping in doorways for photos.


After a few modest purchases and wandering under the portal of the Palace of the Governors, the oldest public building in the United States (circa 1610), where dozens of Native American vendors gather daily to display and sell pottery, jewelry, bread and other goods, we made our way back to the car and headed toward Tomasita's for lunch, located next to the old Santa Fe Railway Station. The station now houses a gift shop and serves as the starting point for day-long high desert scenic tours in vintage railway cars.




After a tasty and filling lunch we drove to Tesuque, took in some amazing vistas (snow is already visible on some of the higher peaks!), visited the Santa Fe Opera, and headed back to Albuquerque, closing the door on a very satisfying day.

A Dreary Saturday

SATURDAY. Balloon Fiesta barely got off the ground this morning. Wind and overcast skies kept many balloons on terra firma. One lone balloon sailed over the house this morning against a colorless sky. It was moving quickly, which is just as well because I couldn't get the exposure right, resulting in a less-than-impressive photo.

It was Dinah Washington who told us in a song, "What a difference a day makes...twenty-four little hours..." Indeed, the sky looked very different when I snapped this red balloon 24 hours ago. Blue skies make for much prettier photos.


But I've other fish to fry today. Loved ones are arriving tomorrow for a brief visit. I've lots to do before they get here. I'm still unpacking boxes. Hopefully they'll enjoy our "American Corrugated" decor.

It's cold, windy and raw today, though I'm noticing a slight improvement as the day wears on. Bright rays that normally heat the house have been obscured by thick clouds since early morning. There's a definite chill inside, but the sun is trying to break through. Turning on the heat isn't an option, because the swamp cooler damper needs to be installed on the roof. Without the damper, hot air escapes through the roof. I expect this to be remedied before sundown.

This afternoon I'm especially grateful for Polartec fleece.

Up, Up and Away

Today's musical offering will be familiar to my fellow baby-boomers.

This little guy was sitting on our next door neighbor's wall when we returned from our balloon chase this morning. Roadrunners never cease to amaze me.


After entertaining me for a few minutes, he jumped off the wall, scampered across the road, and disappeared in the brush.


This morning's lazy peregrinations took us through Los Ranchos de Albuquerque, a beautiful area just minutes from our door, boasting horse farms, vineyards, a sizeable organic farm, and delightful views of the Sandias. I never tire of driving north on Rio Grande Boulevard through Los Ranchos.

The leaves are changing, though not as dramatically as in other parts of the country. Still, the unmistakable yellows and golds of autumn herald the approach of winter. After three years in Florida, living with only two seasons ("hot" and "hotter"), I wonder how I'll adapt to cooler weather again. The ceremonial unearthing of cold-weather gear took place yesterday morning. We scrambled to find gloves and earmuffs as we braced against the morning chill. I'm already pulling recipes for winter stews and soups to warm my bones.

Our journey took us near Balloon Fiesta Park today. I didn't take as many photos, preferring to eat a breakfast burrito in the car, watch the scenery, and enjoy our mini-vacation.






This is, perhaps, the strangest balloon I've seen so far.


Shortly before 10 we drove east on Tramway and wound up at the Sandia Tram, where we waited for our ears to pop and looked at the valley below.


Bison grazed in a field at the side of the road at the northern edge of the city, balloons visible in the distance.


In all honesty, the real thing was almost as good as the balloon.

Breakfast Flyover

THURSDAY. Some nice folks flew over our home this morning to say hello. We invited them in for tea, but they declined and continued their flight. The neighborhood dogs barked insanely. Hot air balloons announce their arrival with the distinct sound of propane burners firing intermittently for a few seconds at a time. It's a sound canines find irresistible. They have no choice. They must bark.




We waved goodbye as they disappeared to the southeast.


For those interested, I discovered a most informative Wikipedia article on hot air ballooning. It's fascinating!

When Storm Clouds Part

WEDNESDAY. It was one of those perfect fall mornings, the air crisp and chill, the sky cloudless and clear. After a long, gloomy, rainy weekend (and numerous cancelled Fiesta events), it's been great to see the balloons in the air yesterday and today. I took off early this morning to chase balloons, right after I spotted the first one rising slowly in the East.

If you click on any of my blog photos, they will open in a larger window. My current photo offerings are basically unretouched, other than a little cropping. The New Mexican sky really IS that blue.

My first impression this morning was that rush hour looks a whole lot different with a backdrop of hot air balloons.


I traveled north and east, toward Balloon Fiesta Park. Within a few minutes I was directly under balloons flying low over the road.


(Gail, this one's for you.)








The placement of the basket under this bee balloon is a little disconcerting. However, kids seem to love these "special shape" balloons. One little boy cried endlessly this morning as the bee was deflated.



LANDING AND RETRIEVAL

Chase crews follow balloons in pickup trucks, many pulling trailers with gear. When you cast your fate to the wind, it's hard to anticipate precisely where you'll land.



(Balloon number 741 will give you an idea of just how many balloons participate in Balloon Fiesta!)



Have you ever tried to push the air out of a baggie before you stow your leftovers in the fridge? Or squeeze the bubbles from an air mattress? Imagine deflating a hot air balloon "envelope" and forcing the air out so it can be folded...

What goes up must eventually come down: in fields, in back yards, in the middle of the road, and even in someone's driveway.


This seems like a reasonable excuse for a U-turn...



Honey, I'm home...


Would you like some green chile with that hot air?


Here's a little Quicktime movie (Quicktime required to watch this) that the Fiesta organizers put together.