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“Crisply vivid, witty, and at once far-seeing and a-whisper with intimacies…a rare and splendid pleasure”- C.M. Mayo, Meteor

“…a wondrous collection that reminds us of states of being so fundamental they can only be described as holy.” – Juliet Patterson, Threnody


    

Shelley’s Blog

Is it by the least expectation or the most that we discover beauty and joy?  I realize my blogs have taken shape through a series of walks, mostly in the same area.  How daring is that?  No trams nor trains, no underground or light rails; my financial advisor pushes me to take at least one international trip a year, to jump at the chance of last minute destinations.  Enjoy while you can, he almost threatens. Right. And so I've rambled--both physically and as a wordsmith--along the same sand-packed trail, really...

Last week here in Las Cruces we had two horrible weather days.  The local media dubbed the blotting out of the Organ Mountains a "sand blizzard."  Other parts of the country were experiencing or readying for a polar blast; a friend of mine in upper New York state rhapsodized about their first real snow.  We had a "sand blizzard." Walker that I am, I bundled up, including sunglasses to deflect sand particles, and leaned my way into probably forty mile an hour wind gusts.  Later someone told me that...

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...