Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument

Located on the Pajarito Plateau, the Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument is less than an hour's drive from home. Cone-shaped "tent rock" formations that resemble teepees are the products of volcanic eruptions that occurred nearly seven million years ago, leaving deposits over 1,000 feet thick. Kasha-Katuwe means "white cliffs" in the traditional Keresan language of Cochiti Pueblo.

We opted for the less challenging of the two trails, the Cave Loop Trail, which wound through the canyon and gave us spectacular views of the rock formations. Murphy was delighted with his first desert hike, followed by a cooling swim in Cochiti Lake. We spotted piñon jays, a coyote, and colorful desert wildflowers along the trail.


At the apex of the trail, a small cave is visible, the product of erosion.


The cries of red-tailed hawks and coyotes echoed in the canyon as we hiked over hot sand. Murphy had his first encounter with a cactus, but survived the experience with the help of his human hiking companion, who gently removed several slender spikes from one of his paws.


In places the walls of the canyon are 200 feet high, but only a few feet wide.


After our hike we rehydrated and enjoyed a light lunch at a shaded picnic table before heading to Cochiti Lake, and then home to Albuquerque.

Desert Heat

As far back as I can remember, there's a period of adjustment when the weather turns sharply cold, and again when the sun produces sudden, surprising heat. Today brought an unexpected summer day in April, a perfect day to spend a little time in Old Town poking around galleries, enjoying the warm air. By late afternoon I realized it was time to go home and brew a pitcher of iced tea. It was HOT walking around Old Town, in part because of my jeans, heavy socks, sneakers, and extra layers. I'm not even sure where I stashed all my shorts.

The perfume from this tree was intoxicating. Hundreds of bees flew from blossom to cascading blossom, buzzing with delight.



Old Town is in full bloom.



These colorful mosaics decorated a clock tower and the wall bordering the lot where I parked the Caravan.



The garden within the walls around San Felipe de Neri Church is peaceful and inviting.


Though unplanned, I will spend some time this weekend packing away my winter wardrobe and unearthing hot weather duds. I'll swap turtlenecks for tanktops, corduroys for cottons, ski socks for sandals. I haven't done this, it seems, for years. Florida living requires just one wardrobe, with an extra sweatshirt always on hand for cool winter days.

More heat is on its way this weekend. I love the heat. It will be a good weekend. Get out the sunscreen!

A Walk Through the Nature Center

I've been having trouble writing lately. To my faithful blog readers who have sent me emails and called me on the phone expressing concern, yes, I'm OK. Just uninspired. I've had a bad case of writer's block. So for today, I offer you photos in lieu of my usual pithy essay. I'll be back soon. Don't give up on me yet.

The Rio Grande Nature Center is a mere five minutes from home. It's been weeks since I did anything "fun," so I decided to take the afternoon off, run a few necessary errands, and visit the Nature Center with my good friend of nearly 40 years, Russ, who's visiting from St. Louis. He's spent the better part of this week exploring the Sandias and Petroglyphs while I've tried to get a handle on my heavy work load. It felt good to take some time for myself today.

It was also refreshing to get away from the dogs for an hour this afternoon. While Murphy is a perfect middle-aged gentledog--easy to manage and a joy to walk, Telly is a toddler with exceptional energy and missing manners. Training is a continuous process and I often grow weary of having a puppy bouncing off the walls all day. Telly forces me to never let my guard down. If I do, she instantly challenges my position as pack leader. I love this little dog, but she wears me out. Next time I want another pet, remind me of the joys of keeping goldfish.

The Nature Center was peaceful and warm today. Many of the birds have begun their northward migration, so the walk was quieter than my last visit in November. Additionally, the riparian environment of the bosque is, I'm sure, more lively at dawn than mid-afternoon. The silence was broken by the unmistakable chatter of hummingbirds, telling me they've returned from their winter vacations in warmer climes. I'm eager to hang my hummingbird feeder from the tree on the other side of the dining room window.


The turtles and Canada Geese enjoyed the warm sun on the pond this beautiful spring day in Albuquerque. Even with a few ripples, the water reflected the image of this goose perfectly.



We walked to the Rio Grande and heard lots of things scurrying in the underbrush. A flowering tree caught our attention. I wish I knew what it was.


Russ looks good in his "roadkill hat." He sports a healthy desert glow these days, in spite of sunblock.

Vernal Break

SATURDAY. Large signboards in front of public schools in Albuquerque announce the Easter holiday with two words: "Vernal Break." This is a new one for me. In a city that's predominantly Christian, I'm not sure why the word "Easter" was pre-empted for the secular "Vernal."


According to the American Heritage Dictionary, "vernal" has Indo-European roots deriving from the word meaning "spring." Easter Sunday is the first Sunday after the full moon following the Vernal Equinox. No matter what your religious or spiritual tradition, there's no argument that this time of year is all about new beginnings, new growth and a fresh start.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of starting over. In a sense, every moment is a point of empowerment where a fresh start is possible. Louise Hay tells us, "The point of power is in the present moment." This implies an incredible dynamism in our lives: there is virtually no end to unlimited newness with every breath we take. Yet for many on this planet, change is elusive. Familiar, comfortable old ways protect us from the pressures of a relentlessly-advancing technological society that fosters physical isolation in service of electronic communication. Are we really alone? My inner voice says no, we are all connected in spite of the illusion of separation. Humankind hungers deeply for understanding and renewal at many different levels.

Spring comes much earlier in Albuquerque than in the Northeast. Much of March was warm and breezy, but this morning snowflakes fell for several hours, reminding me again that I'm not in Florida anymore. It was cold and windy this morning, as a massive cold front moved through New Mexico. I trust (and pray) this was winter's last gasp.

Murphy and Telly don't care. They adapt to any temperature and don't seem to mind the wind and snow. Telly spends her days chasing little white moths that flit from weed to weed in the back yard. Murphy is content to lie in the sun and dream about swimming.

I've spent the last three days working on websites and setting up MySpace pages for myself and a client. I never quite understood the MySpace concept, but now that I'm up to my eyeballs in it, I'm fascinated and intrigued by this internet community. Nearly 170 million people have MySpace pages. The more I explore it, the more hooked I become. The world is much smaller online. The drawback is that it's very addictive.

There's a new kid in the blogosphere. It's called Twitter. This service caters to "microblogging" -- blogging (or writing) in 140 characters or less. It's done in real time, kind of like text messaging, and your message is sent to the entire Twitter community so everyone knows what you're doing at that moment. Microblog: "I'm eating a chocolate chip cookie. It's good." Microblog: "I'm sleepy. I think I'll take a nap." Are we so self-absorbed we think others need to know this stuff? Is it important that complete strangers know our bathroom habits? Has humankind regressed to age twelve? Some people have way too much time on their hands.

More distressing, however, is that this may be symptomatic of an alienated society whose members long for connection. Blackberries, emails and iPODS have taken the place of face-to-face interactions. We are becoming a nation of isolated strangers desperately seeking anonymous ways to reconnect. Have we forgotten how good it feels to look into someone's eyes and communicate without a keyboard?

In this moment of self-renewal, on the day before the "Vernal Holiday," I vow to never microblog. I promise to change my socks every day so my feet feel renewed. I will accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative. I will never feed my dogs Old Roy. And of course, I'll brush after every meal.

However, I will probably always be a nerd, so it's futile to try to change that aspect of my personality. I took a test today that confirmed my nerdiness.

Happy Easter, Happy Passover, and Happy Vernal Break to all. May you all rejoice in rebirth and renewal that Spring offers us every year.