Artesia, New Mexico: Sidewalk Rolling

Architecture, good, in Artesia, New Mexico. Hotel Artesia.

Blew through Artesia twice while in New Mexico.

In-town attention grabbers

• Large public sculptures that depict local history,
• Architectural head turners (for good and bad), and
• Proliferation of flame-topped oil wells in the rural surroundings

Artesia, New Mexico

The first day I went through, I didn't have time to stop, but I was so taken with the public sculptures, and later learned that they tell a story of the area's history and they make for a nice walking tour.

The second time I went through, I did have time, and I parked downtown with the intent to explore. Holy gee, it was hot on this Saturday afternoon! And damned if most of the stores weren't closed! Talk about rolling up the sidewalks.

Artesia, New Mexico

The heat and lack of open businesses pushed me back into my car and on my way west toward home.

Alas, even City of Dust has nothing on Artesia. 

New Mexico: On Being an Artist

Art in Holy Trinity Park, Taos, New Mexico

When I studied for my CELTA in Playa del Carmen three years ago, I participated in a conversation about living somewhere versus visiting somewhere, which I repeat below:

What's the difference between living somewhere and visiting somewhere?
I don't think I'd ever considered the question until the other day, when Paige mentioned to Maria and me that she'd lived in Brazil. For whatever reason, this perked up my ears and I asked how long she'd lived there. She said five months. And I wondered aloud, "How do you decide if you've lived some place"?
Maria and Paige seemed to agree that it is the individual who decides if s/he has "lived" somewhere, although having actually rented a place (versus staying in a hotel) and making that your base also seem to be factors.There may also be a presumed minimum duration of stay. Paige suggested that she is living in Playa. After all, she is staying in one place (as in, she has a base) and renting a condo. The fact that it is only for a month is not the determining factor.
On the surface, this may seem like a pretty esoteric question.

But it's not. It has practical application. For example, don't most of us think and act differently when we live somewhere versus when we visit somewhere? This colors what we see, how we connect with others, what we do every day, how we think about where we are.  
A Thorn Tree thread took up this question recently.

With me being rootless, do I want to think as a resident or as a visitor when I go somewhere new?

Art at Pink Schoolhouse Gallery, Tres Piedras, New Mexico

So it is in New Mexico. If you say you're an artist, then you are an artist.

Indeed, in New Mexico, virtually everyone is an artist. Pick your medium - painting, jewelry-making, pottery making, writing, music, weaving, sculpting, carving, photography  - it's all there.

Art in Mesilla, New Mexico

There is bad art, mediocre art, good art, exceptional art, puzzling art, provocative art, heartbreaking art, and outsider art in New Mexico. Quality isn't the driving force - if you call yourself an artist, then that's what you are.    

Art on Highway 3, New Mexico

Living in New Mexico freed me to identify myself unabashedly as an artist.

Quemado, New Mexico: The Best Chiles Rellenos

El Sarape Cafe, Quemado, New Mexico

The best chiles rellenos in New Mexico are at the El Sarape Cafe in Quemado.

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Better than Chope's.

Vaughn, New Mexico: Drive Through Shots

Vaughn, New Mexico

I always meant to take time out in Vaughn for a thorough look-see, but I didn't follow through.

It's a classic Route 66-ish town. 

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A few shots, all from the same decrepit building:

Vaughn, New Mexico

Vaughn, New Mexico

Vaughn, New Mexico

Vaughn, New Mexico

 Let's see, has my parallel self already done a story on Vaughn? Why, yes he has!

Sumner Lake State Park, New Mexico: A Big Drink of Water

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

When I arrived in New Mexico in September 2012, it was in the grip of a long drought and still suffering the effects of some severe forest fires.

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

The 2013 monsoon season in July and August brought deep gulps of water to some areas, but neglected others. As recently as early September, some lakes were still parched. (I haven't written yet about my visits to Storrie Lake, Santa Rosa Lake, or Conchas Lake in mid-August, but they were down to or near their minimum pool levels then.)

This changed in mid- and late September, when sheets of rain and flooding came.

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

When I visited Sumner Lake State Park the last weekend of September, it was fat with new water. A park ranger told me that the lake had risen 27 feet in the past week. Twenty-seven feet.

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

The liquid song of the lake drew me to crouch down and move my head closer in. Listen for it at :19 below. 

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, New Mexico: Reprise

Last October, I followed a scenic road sign through Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, off of Highway 82.

This September, my last month in New Mexico, I revisited the Karr Canyon drive. The trees weren't in their autumn dress, but the sunflowers were in radiant bloom, there was a mist lowering into the valley, and a cool rain fell.

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Last October's post:

Cloudcroft, NM: Karr Canyon and the Mystery of Binoculars 58

Karr  Canyon, near Cloudcroft, New Mexico

AKA: New Mexico: Fall Colors, Part 3


After I emerged victorious from imaginary mountain lion attacks, I made my way back through High Rolls and headed to Cloudcroft proper. 

But almost as soon as I got onto Highway 82, I saw a sign with a graphic of binoculars and the number 58, pointing right.


58 Binoculars

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and why not? So I turned right onto Karr Canyon Road in search of what I presumed to be a scenic viewpoint a few hundred yards away.










The beginning held so much promise, with a spectacular vision of tall columns of leafy sunshine.












And after rounding some pleasant curves, I approached a postcard-beautiful meadow at the foot of the mountains, filled with multi-colored, waving grasses and shrubs in medieval-tapestry colors like claret, champagne, and ivory. Alas, I knew my camera was not going to be able to overcome the still-strong sunlight to recreate how gorgeous this scene was. It's worth returning to this area during a different time of day to try to capture it. In the meantime, this was the best I could do:

But where was this scenic view #58? I pushed on. I seemed to be climbing, and soon I entered a forest. Then yay! Another sign with the binoculars and the 58!

(What was the 58? The name of the road? The mile marker? The 58th scenic view in NM? I didn't know, but I was guessing a mile marker, but weren't the mile markers ascending rather than descending? I didn't know.) 

I kept going, even when the pavement stopped.

The forest pressed in closer. I passed an area with picnic tables and even a vault toilet structure. The road was pretty rough, and I kept climbing.

I saw a trio of deer over on the left, and they bounded away.

Occasionally, sun pushed through the dense canopy and I thought I might be cresting the mountain, where I'd arrive at the view.  But then I'd climb some more.

My wuss side kept talking to me about vehicle breakdowns, heavily-armed mountain-living survivalists, methheads, and I had no whistle to defend myself.

But I kept going.

Until. I realized, no, it was just too late in the day, this first day of not-daylight-savings time. So I turned around and came back, with a plan to find out what this 58 business was so I could visit it another day. I got to see the lovely yellow columns again on my way out.

Rootless Relocation: What I Left With

Here were all my worldly goods when I prepared to pack my car to leave Alamogordo on September 26:

Another view:

The white full-view mirror didn't make it into the car, and a neighbor harvested it for his use.The frame of the white storage drawer unit also didn't make it, but its drawers did. Other casualties included: bucket, broom/dustpan, mop, and plastic storage containers that I used as bowls.

The red item? It's a super fantastic fold-out chair-bed. And it fit into my car! Thank you to R. and M. for giving this to me.

That rectangular folding table propped against the wall - I'm so happy it still fit into my car for my next relo. I bought this for a dollar from friend J. when she moved from Jefferson City to Nashville. To say I bought it is really a sin - let's just say she gave it to me. I mean, really.

That green suitcase is carry-on size and it's been with me to Ethiopia, Caucasus Georgia, Turkey, New Mexico, and now on to Louisiana. The black and orange weekender - has been to all of the above plus Mexico, Chicago, and several road trips.

Goodbye, sweet apartment. A soothing space.
   

 

The future of my stuff

My current plan is to be outside the U.S. in January 2015. Thus, I'm thinking the year in Louisiana will be the year I enjoy my car for the last time, as I will likely sell it instead of storing it like I did when I was in Caucasus Georgia.

There are a couple of other items that I've held on to for various reasons, but I think it's time to let some go in the coming months.  

New Mexico: Goodbye to Highway 54

As I drove north on Highway 54 for the last time in my year of New Mexico, I went through the same towns I passed through so many times in the past year:

• Tularosa
• Carrizozo
• Corona
• Duran
• Vaughn

As usual, I stopped at the Allsup's in Carrizozo at the intersection of Highways 54 and 380. In exchange for the use of the facilities, I bought my 25-cent banana. Kudos to c-stores that sell fresh fruit!

Antique store next to Allsup's, Carrizozo, New Mexico

 

As I whipped by Duran, I blinked acknowledgement at the green eyes.

Duran, New Mexico

I made another common stop for another bio break at the station in Corona, kind of in the middle of nowhere (but isn't so much of New Mexico in the middle of nowhere?), where I bought my customary can of Diet Coke for 85 cents. (Pity, no fresh fruit here. But the proprietors are as friendly as those in Carrizozo.)

Corona, New Mexico

Some time before Vaughn, I felt wistful at the sight and sound of a southbound train. New Mexico is so much about trains.

Highway 54 between Corona and Vaughn, New Mexico

 And how could I not turn around and appreciate this derelict on the plain?

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

The waving grass, the wind, prompted me to capture the moving version.

It still gives me pleasure to think I can get onto Highway 54 in Jefferson City, Missouri, and follow it through New Mexico, through Alamogordo - my home for one year - to El Paso, Texas.

Taiban, New Mexico: The Church

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

I passed this church on the way from Fort Sumner to Clovis. It made me turn around and take a closer look.

And I wasn't the only person it pulled into its sphere.

Who turns out to be the same person I encountered back here.

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: The Vine, the Vine!

It was in Tularosa, in the spring, when I first noticed it. A long, spindly vine along the road. Its leaves were large and pointy at one end. It looked like a plant that would produce some sort of squash or melon.

On various occasions, I asked people about it. Did the plant produce anything? Most of the time the response was a verbal shrug, though one person allowed as how it might be a gourd...... (What is a gourd, really, other than a table centerpiece or a musical instrument?) .... was it edible? Another shrug.

All summer the vine remained a puzzle.

And into the fall.

Until the second to the last day of my year in New Mexico, on September 28, outside Fort Sumner.

On that day, it was revealed to me.  

Feral curcubita foetissima

And after some research, once seeing the yellow progeny, I've concluded it is known by any of these names: buffalo gourd, coyote gourd, or Missouri (!) gourd. But its best name comes from its Latin roots: stinking gourd.

Feral curcubita foetissima

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: Little Yellow Butterflies

On my penultimate day in New Mexico, on my way from Sumner Lake State Park to the Bosque Redondo Memorial, I drove through little yellow butterflies.




I couldn't get a decent video of the butterflies on the road, but they were also at Bosque Redondo. 

Never had I seen such a thing.

Credit: Wikicommons, Harrelson

I like what this writer had to say about the Little Yellow Butterflies: "My daddy used to say, 'When you see the Little Yellow Butterfly crossing the road, it means fall is on the way.'"

Driving through fluttering yellow butterflies along freshly-cut alfalfa fields on a glorious sunny day is a pretty special experience.

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: Tarantulas

"They're big. They're hairy. And it is the season for them to copulate."

On my last weekend in New Mexico, I received beautiful parting gifts. This is about one of them.

On Sunday, my very last day in New Mexico, as I drove from Ute Lake State Park to the Texas border, I saw eight tarantulas. Eight. Most of them on a 10-mile length of road.

The entire year in New Mexico to this point, I'd seen nine tarantulas. The entire year. And on this one day, I saw eight.

Tarantula on side of road, near Ute Lake State Park, New Mexico

Thank you, New Mexico.

(And I saw two more in Texas.)

So my New Mexico total: 17 tarantulas.

The quote at the top of the page is from this article about the ongoing mating season in New Mexico.

Tarantula. Credit: DesertUSA