Springtime in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

Everyone around here seems deliriously happy with the end of winter weather, if you don't count folks driving the three mile stretch of highway near Buena Vista, NM, where cars slipped and slid through three inches of hailstones just a few days ago. Clouds of steam billowed up from the road, making it hard to see. I wanted to take a photo, but it was just too dangerous.

What I did see the same day were the purple-mountain-majesty-flower-covered hillsides outside Las Vegas, NM. The hills have been this way for several weeks, the rainfall keeping everything fresh and growing. Everyone's wondering, "Just what are those flowers?"

Las Vegas, NM, is a popular film and television location. The tv show Longmire, set in Wyoming, is filmed here. Of course it doesn't look like Wyoming, but it is pretty, isn't it?

I wanted to identify those flowers, but didn't care to hike out to the hills to look, especially since that sky to the east was looking pretty gnarly. Later we learned thirteen tornadoes touched down out there in Lincoln County. They wreaked havoc and destruction and I am glad I don't live on the prairie.

Luckily, I spotted some flower clusters nearby, so here they are.

After some internet searching, I thought they might be purple prairie verbena. A local professor told a friend that's what the flowers were, so I will concur. Look at those cracks in the earth. The earth's been slurping up every bit of rainfall we've had, and we are very grateful.

Closer to home, the valley along Coyote Creek hasn't looked this green for a while.

When we tell people where we live, they almost always say, "Oh, that's God's Country!" I think they are right.

May Day 2014

Last week I was gardening and planting stuff and feeling just like this:

A spring snow, though, has put the outdoor gardening on hiatus for a day or two.

Sunrise Snow May 1, 2014

The snow is already melting (look at the wall in the above pic), but the big question is how is the broccoli I planted four days ago doing? And the apple blossoms? How are they? Is everyone out there okay? My Southern California self emerges, panic at any weather change, News at 11!

It looks like one more cold day and night and then temps will be rising. My optimistic New Mexico self says, "Thanks for the moisture and please, bring us more where that came from!"

Last Snow of the Season?

Our winter has been neither snowy nor cold, except for a few days here and there. I am not complaining about the lack of cold, but we could use a little more moisture.

Luckily, the past several days have had rain and sleet and even a little snow, so our ground is nice and wet, just what the grass needs.

This morning while he and Ms. Pearl were on their morning constitutional, Tom took some photos. The snow was already melting and will probably be gone by tomorrow.

Doesn't it look like sea urchins in a tide pool?

They Call It God's Country

 Ms. Pearl and I went for a little walk yesterday and while watching MP trot around and then freeze, sniffing the air and wondering just what was that interesting scent, I took a look around. I mean, really looked around at this gorgeous place we now call home.

It makes a big dog look small.

 The rimrock topped by the mesa looms over this part of the ranch.

When someone in northern New Mexico asks where I live and I tell them, they either don't know where the heck that place is, or they say immediately, "That's God's Country!"

I just call it "Home."

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!

For Trudy: The Enchanted Forest

Since mom-in-law Trudy can't come visit, I try to give her a sense of what it's like, so she can see, even if we are 951 miles apart.

The weather was in the 70's the other day with a slight breeze, some clouds, but also sunshine. Winter was a faint memory even though just last week it looked like this:

It was gone by the afternoon, though.

So I took a walk to The Enchanted Forest, beyond the grassy expanse you see past the garden wall, across the wooden bridge over the creek, and into the trees.

The day was breezy yet sunny and after checking out the beaver dam I looked at a tree and said, "I think I will sit right down here and have a little nature time."

So I spread out my sweatshirt, sat on the pine needles, closed my eyes and just listened. There is an absence of sounds: no planes, cars, voices, chain saws,  anything mechanical, still no birds. It's too early for them to be singing. No cows mooing, no yaks grunting. Just wind in the pines.

So Trude, here's what I saw to the left:

 

And here is how it looked to my right:

Looking straight ahead:

I thought, "We need to clean up this tree. There are dead branches on the ground and up its trunk." 

And wouldn't a bed be cool out here? But I thought of rodents and discarded that idea. 

A close relative came to visit a couple years ago and he said, "What are you trying to do, make this a park?" 

Well, yeah. Why not? 

A park with random hammocks. Yeah, that would work.

April Snow

Yesterday afternoon while we were sewing at ThreadBear in Las Vegas, the sky and the air looked gray and moisty, like Newport Beach in the winter. Minus the beach.

"I wish it would do something," a friend said.

"Maybe rain?" someone else said. And then she added, "Hah!"

And then it started snowing. We packed up and hightailed it out of there just in case it was a blizzard or something. It wasn't a blizzard, but at home there was a nice two inches of the wet stuff.

By this afternoon it will have soaked into the earth and the grass trying to grow will say, "Thanks, buddy!"

I like the hopeful vibe of the hammock hanging behind the picnic table.

Growing Dome Report: Early Spring 2013

Early spring in Northern New Mexico is not pretty. Everything still looks dead and three years ago when we first moved here, this SoCal gal wondered if any of the plants, trees, or grass would ever come back.

Looking north toward the cabin and Growing Dome

Temps are still as low as 3 degrees with highs in the 30's or 40's. The wind howls and it sounds like the roof is going to be ripped off. It's times like these that I remind myself that summer will be in the temperate 70's and 80's and not over 100F for weeks like at our old home.

The Growing Dome is the place to be during times like these. With the sun shining it's in the 70's and 80's which makes it cozy to sit in the Adirondack chair, read, listen to the wind, and watch stuff grow.

Below is the eastern side of the dome. I planted most of this stuff in late September. We ate lettuce, radishes, carrots, chard and kale throughout the winter.

Cast of characters here: kale, onions, rainbow chard, carrots and broccoli rabe.

Here are some closeups:

Broccoli Rabe

Carrots, rainbow chard, and red stalk celery

The radishes look as pretty as their picture.

I just bought a Meyer lemon tree. In the background are some EarthBoxes. Box 1: spearmint, Box 2: rosemary in the back and cilantro sprouting in the front, Box 3 (which you will just have to imagine): lemon thyme in the back, basil in the front. The rosemary and lemon thyme are a year old now.

The west side of the dome has been my lettuce garden and it's almost done and I have to wash off the aphids before we eat the leaves. I know, "Yuck!" But there's some protein there, I guess. I've been keeping the aphids in check with insecticidal soap which works if I keep at it.

Some of the sugar snap peas are ready to pick.

And I have one last crop of snap peas waiting in the wings. These were planted late February.

Pretty soon it will be time to plant the warm season crops: beans, tomatoes, cukes are number one on the list. Yay!

And here's another Yay!  We will be adding some raised beds where the south lawn is, so I can grow more stuff outside! We don't need that much lawn and why not have a potager (kitchen garden) just outside your house?

Happy Spring, everyone!

Cheese Blintzes

It's feeling springlike here at the Nickel and Dime, and even though I realize Mom Nature may have a few more snowstorms hiding under her skirts, I am hopeful that warmer weather is just around the corner.

My symbol for hope is this springy breakfast I made today. Right up front you should know these blintzes are not made from scratch like my dad's were.

These were from the frozen food section at a supermarket in Santa Fe and a decent second choice if you don't have any home made blintzes stockpiled in your freezer. I bought some raspberry pecan jam while we were in Texas last week so that's what is on top.

Happy Almost Springtime!

Green

When we lived in Inland Southern California, our green season was early spring, after the winter rains. California poppies on the hillsides stopped traffic on the I-15 freeway and folks flocked to the desert to check out the wild flowers. 

But those green hillsides and fields of poppies were fleeting, almost cruel in the shortness of their flowery lives. They were here and then, look again, they weren't. And everything turned sere: withered and brown.

Northern New Mexico has a green season, too, as long as it snows enough and rains enough to get everything growing. During late spring through late summer, with help from monsoonal rains (when they come) everything looks fresh, clean and verdant. The green lasts here at bit longer, but come autumn, when the leaves drop, the rains go away, and the snow begins to fall, we have our own brown (and white) time, too, with dead grass crunching underfoot like shredded wheat under that brilliant blue New Mexico sky.

The monsoons aren't due for a couple weeks or so, but there have been a couple good rains to get things started. Here's what it's like right now.

 This is a view from the creek looking toward the house. Lots of good green stuff for the steers to eat.

Number 27 and his bros have been munching away on all the delicacies available to them, which this year doesn't include the cukes in the Growing Dome. Look at Sir Loin lying down in the background. He's ready for a siesta.

Rockier places with poor soil seem to attract wildflowers. The yellow plants are yarrow and the red ones are Indian paintbrush. Here's a closer look:

The big trees are leafing out, too. We're calling this one in the photo below The Bear Tree. Last week Tom was moving some big branches when out of the corner of his eye he saw a large brown object streak by, not 6 feet from where he was standing. Then he saw two bears climb down from this tree and zoom up the rimrock. Tom zoomed in the opposite direction and Ms. Pearl, who was sniffing around in the vicinity, missed the whole thing.

So now this is The Bear Tree. We haven't seen the bears since.

 And Ms. Pearl gets the award for Most Unaware Doggie in the neighborhood.

But I don't think she cares all that much!

Almost Summer at the Ranch-Country Busy

For the past couple weeks it's been busy at the Nickel and Dime, well, our version of busy:

The cabin got a new coating of oil based stain, which makes it look as good as new. Thank goodness we only have to do this every 7-10 years.

There are two bridges across the creek, but Tom made some "walk the plank" bridges for the harder to access areas. At the end of each plank, he drilled a couple holes and added rope handles so he can pull them off the creek when the water gets high.

Since we heat with wood and winters are, in my dad's Tennessee vernacular, "colder than a well-digger's a@#," the wood gathering and sawing continues. So far we haven't needed to go to the National Forest to cut wood since there is plenty right here. We haven't had to cut anything living yet, just dead and down branches. It isn't as pretty as big logs, carefully split, but wood is wood and if it keeps us warm, who cares how it looks?

And it's green! I twirl around and sing, "The hills are alive with the sound of music," but the steers just look at each other and say, "I think there's some more of that Blue Grama grass over here, Bro."

Spring Randomness-Some Nickel and Dime Photos

Spring is finally, really here, with all the trees and bushes leafed out and, for a while at least, warmer weather. When we're talking warm, what do I mean? Dang! It was 78 degrees! It was "I could have stripped off my clothes and run around" warm! But I didn't.

The grass is growing and the steers have been having a party, moving throughout the Nickel and Dime like they're at a progressive dinner or something. You don't see any cattle in this photo because they are over in The Enchanted Forest testing the grass.  When we tossed out the last of our hay,  they ignored it. I think The Angus Boys like eating locally.

The bees are humming along, tasting all the blossoms: apples, pears, these pink things, and the lilacs you can see in the background.

Speaking of lilacs, I had never seen them growing or smelled their delicious scent until we moved here. When I smelled them, it knocked me for a loop and the next thing I knew I was weeping uncontrollably. I think I associated them with orange blossoms, which used to be the signature scent in Corona, CA. The days of orange blossoms permeating the Corona air are gone, so maybe I was weeping for the past. M said it was probably hormones. I think she's right.

A series of storms has arrived, and these clouds were the beginning of it. Isn't the New Mexico sky amazing? No wonder artists like it here.