I was really crazy this AM waxing on about orange spiked water. I maintain that it's just those little things that are refreshingly different from your own every day existence that wake up your senses and tell you to pay attention to the smallest things. Or maybe it's the altitude!
I think that is what writing does for me. It helps me to catalog all of the stuff that I am noticing. It's all in the noticing , really. Isn't it? Look around-wake up to all the nuances of place-and the people that people those places...
I have had a glorious day. I spent at least 5 hours just meandering through hundreds of artisan tents with every manifestation of the Southwest that one could imagine. I bought a hat...an expensive hat. I could have bought a cheap one that would fray and crack in no time....but I wanted to somehow acquire a hat that I might wear for a decade or more. And I will.
I swear...a wide brimmed southwestern hat makes your inner cowboy come out...and how can that be bad? When you place a wide brimmed hat atop your head-you feel a little more free-maybe even rebellious. Like that spirit of the Old West has been ignited anew and the smoke of this place-the melange of Native American and Spaniard influences-permeates you. Makes you roll your rrrrr's the way you learned to do way back in high school.
I bought large moon shaped turquoise earrings from an old Santo Domingo Indian. And I bought a lovely gourd with a tiny little kiva in it-an ancient Native American sacred structure- to be hung on my new Hampshire tree in December. On that wintry day in December, I will be reminded of this perfect day in Santa Fe.
But the most amazing part of my day was a horseback trip into the canyons of an ancient little town called Cerillos. Our guide, John Wayne (I thought he was kidding) was gentle with us- a group of 5 gringos with no horse experience beyond watching old John Wayne movies....
To be continued....
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