Tales of a Traveling Weaver continued....

I don't feel exactly like I am traveling any more because I am living in a house with furniture some of which actually belongs to me and because my family is here... and also because I used to live in the San Luis Valley. So here I am again.

I made a few trips down to my storage locker in Northern NM to pick up some furniture and especially, the LeClerc loom. My adventures warping that loom are following shortly. This mural is in Espanola on a construction dumpster.

Alamosa has a small college, Adams State, who hosted one of my favorite bands on March 30th, Driftwood Fire. It was my niece's first concert. If you want to see a great video of one of their beautiful songs, check out this video of Appalachian Hills.

Rhonda Mouser opened for Driftwood Fire.

I hope not to be in traveling mode forever, but while I am, experiencing new things is fun and broadening. Take for example, this horse which belongs to one of my current patients who lives just a couple miles from me. My patient's land and barn was burned in a recent fire. Her neighbor was burning his fields (they do this a lot this time of year apparently--and when the wind whips up to 50mph it doesn't seem the smartest thing to me, but I'm not a farmer with a blow torch) and a gust of wind spread the fire burning at least a square mile including her barn. Her renter saved the horse and the rental house and now this old guy is living in her front yard. This horse is 35 years old and I can't help but wonder what sort of biomechanical nightmare his spine is.

There was a spring trip to the Great Sand Dunes National Park. Medano Creek flows only part of the year and it was just reaching the visitor's center the weekend we were there. Locally this creek is called "the Alamosa beach" because the water is warm and the sand is fun to dig in, even if you are a bit older than the diapered kids with sand pails.

The end of the water. Eventually the creek will flow wide and strong all the way around the dunes to the Blanca wetlands where the water supports many species.

The pattern is important. Sometimes a life looks like chaos from the outside, but the pattern is steady underneath.

Fall has come

I live very close to Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Last weekend I climbed to Mosca Pass in the park (a great hike along a stream which is not too strenuous--although people have complained that when I label a hike as "easy" that doesn't mean they won't need to be carried out on a stretcher. All I can say is, get your Colorado Search and Rescue CORSAR card before hiking with me). It was beautiful, but I was completely shocked to find the aspens well on their way to full yellow. I don't know how I let this sneak up on me. It happens every year around this time. I like to keep my level of denial high in the fall. I desperately cling to hiking season and hate to admit that I might have to abandon my beloved mountains until as late as June unless I'm willing to take up backcountry skiing... which I'm not because I'm a total klutz and afraid of smacking into a tree at 60 mph.
So, the winter is approaching. I'm hoping for one more backpacking trip into the Sangres the end of October... but the thought of camping under a tarp covered with snow is a little daunting. BUT winter is a good time for weaving and my studio space is sunny and warm in the winter. So bring on the snow (and if you don't know, Alamosa is often the coldest place in the nation--routinely hitting -30 degrees F especially in January)... maybe I'll get some weaving done.
This little guy was hanging on for dear life. Sort of how I feel about letting go of summer.