Shelley Armitage | Author
1540
home,paged,page-template,page-template-blog-small-image,page-template-blog-small-image-php,page,page-id-1540,paged-4,page-paged-4,tribe-no-js,,qode-title-hidden,qode_grid_1300,qode-content-sidebar-responsive,qode-theme-ver-10.0,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.0,vc_responsive

    

Shelley’s Blog

Early morning walks near my New Mexico home--especially Sunday mornings-- feel like prayer. There's the slight lift of the faint path as I swing onto the main sandy artery that connects to the pecan tree-lined fields below. Farmer's daughter that I am, I like checking the crops: there's the seasonal rotation of alfalfa, lettuce, onions, even watermelon. I stand in the stillness of the moment. And the crows know it. This particular morning, the sky is full of American Crows. At least one hundred of them, a moving cacophony and...

It was what we consider a cold morning here in the desert.  Maybe 41 degrees, a stout wind out of the north.  My partner and I are dressed like snowmen: I at least have two layers on, gloves, two caps.  We often take early Sunday morning bird walks, but this morning the birds were smartly hunkered down in the scrub mesquite or elsewhere. Lately, well since last spring, but particularly now it's winter, we walk wondering: what's it like at Standing Rock where thousands of people are protesting--protesting the...

It was a busy week, with a lead-up to that day we are all assumed to overeat.  There were the plans to go to David and Zita's--friends who invite folks away from family to share with their table (and what a beautiful one it always is); the trip to Tempe to see my 86 year old cousin would follow.  We planned to overnight in Tucson, squeezing in a little vacation time too. But before that, the Tuesday evening before to be exact, I'd been invited to speak about my...