Schlubbing Through Summer

Okay, I admit it: I've been a schlub this summer. That's Yiddish for an unkempt lazy butt.

Well, not totally lazy, but blogging has taken a back seat. Priorities. Work on that.

What have I been doing this summer?

Sitting on the porch, watching this little feller grow up. Miss Bonnie almost killed him, but he shook it off and survived. Bonnie is still patrolling the perimeter of the porch, just in case Little Bunnyboy gets careless.

Watching Mr. Robot while the lawn grows is an afternoon must. The rain has been amazing this year.

I've been outdoors a lot, pulling weeds and tending The Potager, which is a fancy way of saying The Garden.

We had asparagus and strawberries early in the season. Grasshoppers ate the shallot sets and the garlic was small this year since the rains started late.

The tomato plants look great, with lots of green ones, but the picking has been slow with all this rain and the clouds.  Hope reigns, though, since we a few moisture free days forecast. And those tomato bags may be my saving grace since we can take them into the Growing Dome if it gets too cold.

The climbing purple green beans are thriving, an homage to my dad who loved showing off his purple green beans. When they are properly cooked, they turn green. Magic. "Purpipple." He liked to say that.

The steers are growing large and still curious. Here's St. Thomas, saying hi.

We've had time for dinner with friends.

And I've been tidying up the fabric and sewing area. This is an ironic pic, don't you think? You may recognize this best selling book.

There are a few finished quilt tops and a couple quilts finally quilted, but minus their binding and a load of unfinished projects, but isn't that how it goes?

Next post will be quilts. Yep.

Even Though We Live Miles Away, We Are Neighbors

I laughed reading a friend's email yesterday because she looked forward to a neighborly gathering, and she lives 27.9 miles away, a 49 minute drive, according to Google maps. But yes, we are neighbors.

Our closest neighbor is half a mile away as the crow flies.  If one doesn't have wings and must drive or walk, it's closer to a mile.

Yesterday I visited a friend who lives about three miles down the road to pick up some carrots because she planted way too many. Since my carrots didn't do too well, I'm all for picking up some carrots. Earlier I gave her some garlic and she said I may have some pesto, too. Yum!

Here's our road. The road grader was here since our last rainstorm, so it looks good.

It's fun looking at our neighboring ranches. This one is around 1300 acres and has pines, cacti, and ferns: three different ecosystems at work.

 Friend Raye lives closer to the village with neighbors nearby.

Her house is adobe and the original structure was built in the early 1900's. That's Goldie, the almost fourteen year old Labrador.

               A smiling farmer out standing in her field, ready to dig. We barely made a dent in the row where Raye is standing, but I still ended up with plenty of carrots.

That's about five pounds of carrots, a zucchini, yellow squash and a lemon cucumber.

Goldie decided to cool off in the acequia, one of a series of water ditches that runs through many of the ranches in New Mexico.

Labradors and water equal fun!

We had some tea on the porch and Goldie had a few more pets. She's a happy oldster.

And then it was back toward home. Don't you love those clouds?

Now about those carrots: Stay tuned.

Time to Comb the Yaks

When you get an email asking if you might want to herd some yaks, it would be crazy to turn it down, don't you think?

So the other day 20 people, both local and from Santa Fe, decided that yes, yak herding sounded just fine, especially when it's such a pretty day.

Yak herding is easy with 20 herders: One person sits in the bed of a pickup truck and holds out some hay. The lead yak decides that hay is a good idea and follows the truck and the rest of the herd follows, because that's what yaks do. Theoretically.

Our job was to make a line behind the yaks and follow along just in case they decided the hay was a trick and wanted to hightail it out of there. With 20 herders spread out behind the yaks, it was easy peasy and before you knew it, all 14 bovines were in the pen awaiting their shots, ear tags for the newbies, and combing.

The guys picked up each baby for a shot and an ear tag.

 The squeeze chute was there for the adult yaks.

Once inside the chute, they got their shots and a good combing.

Yak fiber is very soft, like cashmere, and is sold for about 18 dollars an ounce.

After each yak was released from the squeeze chute, they looked back as if to say, "What the heck happened?"

When the yaks finished their medical and beauty treatments, we had a picnic under some old cottonwood trees.

Yeah, the life of a New Mexico yak herder is pretty tough.

Photos courtesy of Christa and David. Thanks!

Bucket Bath

The boiler decided to quit last week. I tried numerous times to light the pilot, but it just didn't want to stay lit. So good bye to hot water and to our fancy-shmancy room heating.

This was after the oven decided to quit on Thanksgiving, just after we removed the turkey but before the sides were cooked. We are an adaptable family, so the microwave finished the job.

We've been washing ourselves for the past week with water heated in this bucket, wood-stove-pioneer style. I used the range to heat water for washing dishes because I am a germ phobe and need almost boiling water to ensure we are not poisoned.

We have neighbors not too far away who have no running water at all, heat entirely with wood, and have raised some fine kids nonetheless. When I took a bunch of basil to our neighbor friend this past summer, she dipped some water out of a container on the kitchen counter, filled a jar and plunked that basil right in there. No running water? No problem! So I kept reminding myself that we have it pretty danged good.

Anyway, when the propane tech came out to fix the boiler and the oven, he discovered a gas leak. Out came his RED TAG, which meant THE GAS MUST BE TURNED OFF. So no top of the range cooking, either. While the gas man was here, the electricity quit as well, so we were out of luck for heating, cooking, and now lighting and microwave.

But we are experienced campers, and Tom set up a camp stove and we rustled up lanterns, our new insulator candle holders, oil lamps, and battery powered lights to cast a gloomy glow on our dark rooms. I made Spanish rice with salad and we dined by candle light.

All was well, though, because the electricity came on later that evening, the gas leak was discovered not under the house but in a more accessible location, and it was an easy fix the next day. When I heard the boiler kick in and saw that the oven was back to its old hottie self, I almost kissed the tech's gigantic Frankenstein shoes. That guy was big!

We are, in many ways, spoiled by our easy life. People fight each other in Wal-Mart for cut rate televisions and for toys that children will tire of a few weeks after they receive them from Santa Claus. Our water comes right out of a faucet, clean and ready to use. A repairman drives 30 miles to the boonies to give us a holiday gift of hot water and an oven that works.

There are places around the world and here in the U.S. where the toys are old, used, or non existent. In Africa a mother treks miles for some clean water for her children and she can't fathom a stranger trucking fuel to her home for heat and cooking. And just up the road a mom dips water from a container on her counter to keep some basil fresh. 

So a bath from a bucket once in a while is not a big deal.

Who Lives Here?

Our neighbors are a diverse bunch, but the anchors here are the people descended from Spanish settlers who received land grants from the Governor of the New Mexican Territories in the 1830's.  Vigil, Montoya, Martinez, Trujillo, Chacon, Lucero, Pacheco are names you see on the business signs, political banners, and in the government offices.  When people say, "He's not from around here," they might mean that the guy came here in the 1970's. Forty years living in one place does not make you an insider around here. It's kind of like New England in that way, insular and not always amenable to change.

Spanish American residents of Mora, New Mexico, way back when

Most of the full time residents in our area seem to be land rich and cash poor. Because it's so isolated, it is hard to make a living, the kind of living where you make lots of money. It has been described as like Appalachia in some ways, with poverty being the biggest similarity. A few people commute to work in Taos, a 100 mile round trip, or have jobs working for the county of Mora. A significant number of these local people have college degrees and returned here because they like a quiet, safe atmosphere. When you listen to people around here talk, there's a bit of a Spanish accent which I heard someone describe as the Northern New Mexico lilt.

So who else lives here? Old hippies who home school their kids, eat vegan and do odd carpentry jobs to make a living are our closest neighbors. They have no running water and haul it from a neighbor's well.  When the girls hit their teens, his water hauling increased enormously. Teen-aged girls require lots of water, you know.  Their oldest daughter is attending college, the next one was just accepted and will go in the fall. The two youngest daughters are home schooled. They are our closest full time neighbors, about a half mile away.

A retired police officer and his wife live a bit farther. He recently retired again-from raising yaks, when a mean one tossed him out of a corral. He was lucky to be wearing layers of clothing and overalls. Have you seen those yak horns?

About five miles away is David, a local who raises goats.  Mr. Cordova, in his 70's, raises cattle, and wonders if he is ready to hang up his cowboy had and move to town.

That's about it for full time residents.

Our adjacent neighbors on each side are entrepreneurs, oilmen, doctors, and the guy who designed the new Spaceport America.

It's an interesting mix. We were told that if we didn't take anyone's jobs, didn't want to change everything, and were good neighbors, we would be in good shape.

We buy eggs, cattle, produce, honey and soon, chickens to eat, from our neighbors. I figure why the heck not? Every village needs an economy.