Category Archives: Cedar

February 12, 2010 · 5:35 pm

Fine Sentences February 7-13, 2010

Here are some fine sentences from blogs published February 7-13, 2010.  You may link to these blogs by referring to the blogroll on the right hand side of any page.  If a blogger has not posted a writing during February 7-13, 2010, they are not listed here.

There is something broken in us if we look at the Ivanpah Valley and see not peace, but merely a way to increase our power and the profit we derive from it.  –Chris Clarke on Coyotes Crossing.

The name is a Spanish interpretation of the Tewa word, “nanbe,” which roughly translates as “earth roundness.”  –Evangeline Chavez on Nambe Falls, New Mexico, Evangeline Art Photography.

So Dave and I found ourselves in the bottom of the Canadian River canyon under the bridge, and we walked between the salt cedars and the water, which was actually quite deep for just being seepage from the dam.   There was no wind, and we followed dozens of deer tracks in and out of the cattails.  –Bunny Terry on I Love New Mexico.

There’s something about Madrid that makes walking down the tiny winding roads without an exaggerated smile a virtual impossibility.  –Kristy Sweetland, Stark Raving Zen, on visiting and photographing Madrid, New Mexico.

I used to love to hand write letters, and have written hundreds upon hundreds in my years. I hear they’re still out there…friends have told me they have kept them…and that is also thought provoking to me. It’s like my history is spread out around the country in little envelopes.  –Martie, Taos Sunflower, on the lost art of writing letters.

I love the ritual of grinding the beans, transferring them to the filter, pouring the water in, and hittin’ that button, knowing that heaven is just around the corner.  –Teresa Evangeline, on early morning and making coffee.

After weeks of overcast skies and rain the rivers and creeks in the Hill Country are flowing fast and furious, which makes for some nice photographic opportunities.  –Jeff Lynch, “On the Road Again,” taking photographs in the Hill Country of Texas.

There is something Really Nasty out there, unbridled, coarse, and raw.  –Kittie Howard, The Block, a comment on Bald-Face Lie shooting, Sage to Meadow.

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February 5, 2010 · 9:03 am

Fine Sentences January 31-February 6, 2010

The best sentences from my friends on the blogroll for the week of January 31-February 6, 2010.

Before I could go back down to help him cross he’d run the other way across five times as much water, and up the far bank to reach the bridge from the other side. He flew up to us smiling.  –Coyote Crossing, Chris Clarke.

Nestled in the foreground is the Rio Grande and in the background are the snow-covered majestic Sandia Mountains.  Sandia means watermelon in Spanish.  –Evangeline Art Photography.

Musicians, the good ones anyway, understand the rules of music so well that they are able to venture beyond the rules of their form and create something even more true and beautiful and reflective of the true condition of human life.  –HappiForever and the Hungry Ghosts.

I love the cemetery in Cimarron, New Mexico, with the hazy purple mountains in the distance.  I love the cemetery at Logan for its windmill in the corner and its lack of perpetual care.  There are yuccas and cedar trees and a view to the Revelto Creek and the graves of my Aunt Ruby and Uncle T.H.  –I Love New Mexico Blog.

The crowd screamed, pushed forward. I knew to lie prostrate on the hot roof. Machine gun fire continued.  –The Block, Kittie Howard.

I’ve spent most of my cooking career running small boutique hotels, private homes and luxurious bed and breakfasts. The best part of working small is playing with unexpected treats like gourmet fruit for garnish. Every morning is  chance for a new work of art.  –New Mexico Photography, Sebastian.

In honesty, my favorite part of living in the land of boats, ships and all is seeing them in stillness. Of this I never tire. Sails folded, long water shadows cast. There is peace in still water and its mirrored reflections.  –Sea Mists and Sunsets, Chris Schutz.

There are men in orange suits and neon signs warning, “Stay Away!” or “Keep Out!” all over the place. But still, there is no sound. Just the wind quietly whistling, and that low vibrational drum beat of science.  –Stark Raving Zen in the Very Large Array, New Mexico.

I stepped outdoors to take this photo and the instant the air hit my skin, it brought back memories of a nine year old girl growing up in East L.A. and having the special treat of ice skating in the Paramount ice rink.  –Taos Sunflower, photo of fog moving up to Arroyo Seco, New Mexico.

I had set up a small piece of the yard, down beneath the far end of the clothesline and there I lived in my head and in my heart for more than one summer.  –Teresa Evangeline.

As I sighted through my viewfinder I knew the long hike and difficult climb had been worth it. I’d found a perfect spot to spend a few wonderful hours doing what I love the most.  –Jeff Lynch, Texas Photography, upon seeing Gorman Falls near Bend, Texas.

On the edge of the darkened wood, the silence falls through the stilted trees…no whippoorwill remains.  –Bonnie Joy Bardos, Bohemian Artist, from blogroll of  The 27th Heart.

And, to be in the present eliminates our ongoing thoughts about our tragic, unhappy pasts.  –Turquoise Moon, from the blogroll of The 27th Heart.

Outside the week of January 31-February 6, 2010, these are two bloggers that fall under Cordilleran blogging.

Christmas Eve our home is always open to our sons’ friends. They come after Taos Pueblo ceremonies, family dinners, drinks with friends. There’s green chile stew, cornbread, cookies. Sausage Cheese Balls. We have a bonfire outside in the pit and listen to the stories of their still young lives.  The moon rises above Pueblo Peak. We relive the past and laugh and tell tales. Toast to their futures.  –Coffee On the Mesa.

Often I gazed across to this remote ridge and wished to bridge the stream.  –Observations from a Missouri River Bluff.


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January 7, 2010 · 1:30 pm

Gray Sky With Duck

Ducks Flying Over Flying Hat, January 7, 2010

After feeding the horses, I go farther into the pasture south of the arena to check on corn I have scattered on the ground for deer in the grove and dry creek bed.

Half of the corn I dispersed last night has been consumed and deer hooves have stabbed the ground in delight or hunger.  Leaving the deer prints behind, I turn north on the pasture road and drive past the stock pond next to the Blue farm, the family east of us.

I frighten nine ducks that take to the air from the pond, shaming me that I had disturbed their morning feed.  I open the door of the pickup and snap a shot of their flight upwards, then circling back to the pond.  A momentary interruption at their table I was.  Tomorrow I will walk to the deer-stabbing feed ground in the grove.  Better for me.  Better for the ducks.

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Notes:

11/18/2010.  I am going to set up a duck blind.  I have cedar posts and brush that will allow me to stand behind and photograph.  I hope to identify the ducks that come to the pond by the end of the Winter season.  That is my intention.  Not a promise to anyone, but it is my intent.

11/15/2010.  Two days ago as I drove to the Grove to photograph our solitary cottonwood, I scared at least fifteen ducks from the pond.  I had forgotten about them in my mission to write about the cottonwood.

7/30/2010.  A pair of heron fly often to the pond.  They give one call when they leave the pond — just one call.

3/19/2010.  Ducks were on the pond this morning.  A blue heron flies to the pond late in the afternoon.


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