Trivia from a trip

Unfortunately we’re leaving a large footprint behind in New Mexico. Sixteen people and as many disposable plates as possible make a lot of trash. We averaged three or four bags a day plus all the wrappings etc. that accumulates on Christmas morning, especially for a large group with lots of presents. We had to take the trash down the road quite a way to a compacter—can’t leave it out because critters, mostly overfed deer, would scatter it.

I’m glad to spent this time in Ruidoso—it’s a place I’ve heard about forever and somehow never visited. We’ve had fun—a big cabin with comfortable beds for everyone, large common spaces, and a gorgeous wall of windows that opened to an enormous deck, two grills, and forested mountains. Deer came to visit often this week. The kids loved the hot tub, and the adults appreciated a huge fireplace—it’s been chilly. The girls coped with the world’s smallest kitchen in a big house—and only one oven.

The main drag in Ruidoso is brightly lit and crowded with people, most in a holiday mood. Stores, one after another, sell the same souvenir items, so you wonder how any one store survives. I am sure there are scattered galleries and shops with quality items, but we saw lots of reistas and T-shirts, etc. We had two delightful lunches, but apparently there is no rhyme or reason to when stores are open or closed. One place was supposedly closed when we wanted to go there, but when we drove by there were clearly customers inside. Sat. night we tried three restaurants before we found one open—at six o’clock on a holiday weekend! The town reminds me some of the square in Granbury or the North Side in Fort Worth but most of all of Pitlochry in the Scottish Highlands—we went expecting picturesque and found cheap tourist attractions.

We did find one wine bar/gift shop where we hunkered down for a large part of one afternoon. I wasn’t crazy about the wine, but the atmosphere and two of the three sales persons were pleasant, the gift and fine food selections intriguing. Touches like a couch made of an old claw-foot bathtub, and lots of plaques on the walls—plus, of course, wine and accessories. The plaque I liked: The way your day goes depends on turn of the corners of your mouth.

Being so close with family for days is an interesting experience. My dad always told me you use your best manners with family, but on the other hand it’s one time when you know the people you’re with love you no matter what you do (within reason) and you can relax and be yourself. Kind of contradictory. I’ve been reading in some daily meditations about getting out of yourself and thinking about the other person and their enjoyment and comfort—with the ultimate goal of your own happiness. I found it worked this week.

Ready to head home tomorrow. Miss my dog. Reports are that she just started eating regularly today. I guess she’s been on a hunger strike. And I’m ready now to get back to some serious writing.

Alas, no snow

We came to Ruidoso so the kids and grandkids could ski, most of them at least. For years, our Alter Christmases (alternate years—I get them on Thanksgiving in off years) have been skiing vacations, usually Santa Fe. But we found a better house, we thought (another story) in Ruidoso and here we are, with no snow while the northern part of the country almost from coast to coast is buried in the stuff. Two bunny slopes are open but they scoff and say that is no fun.

Everybody except me has found other outdoor activities. My two sons geared up and went for a run Christmas Eve morning, though the altitude cramped their style a bit. A big bunch went for a walk later that day and were delighted to come upon a buck who did not run. Deer up here are apparently well fed from residents and tourists and aren’t people-shy.

The four boys (ages thirteen to ten) and one granddaughter have loved just exploring outdoors. Yesterday afternoon they hadn’t been gone long when they all came tumbling into the cabin, breathless and red in the face, panting to get their story out. Someone had chased them and they were sure he had evil intent. Jacob did suggest he might just have been out for a walk, and I said maybe they were accidentally trespassing. One announced with conviction that couldn’t be the case because this is all public land. And he knows that how?

Today they went to a zip line place some forty-five minutes away, left at eleven-thirty and still aren’t home at five. It was, they explained by text, an inefficient operation; the explanation left out the fact that it apparently had a bar.

Meanwhile I stayed home, wrote about seventeen hundred words, answered emails, started a new book, and had a good day and a nice nap. I haven’t been out of the cabin for three days, so I think tomorrow I’ll be ready, but we’ll see what outdoor activity they dream up for tomorrow.

Watching the land change

I probably haven’t been west of Weatherford in years, but today we drove west and west, to Abilene and beyond, with Ruidoso our destination. Left behind poor Sophie, who with dog sense knew we were leaving her. In fact, she’s known for days. But she has a dogsitter, so she and the houses are in good hands.

I’d forgotten how interesting the land is beyond Abilene—scrubby, yes, with lots of mesquite, but rolling plains with occasional wonderful views. Great clumps of prickly pear line the roadway for long stretches, and the bare trees hosted lots of mistletoe. When we got beyond Abilene we were in West Texas, that flat land that stretches forever. Endless cotton fields with the cotton now bundled and covered in tarps, waiting for someone to pick them up. I wondered who comes to collect all that cotton, or do the farmers take it somewhere? Isolated houses dot those now-plowed fields, with one or two trees and sometimes a whole cluster. There may be a single house or an old one and a newer one, and I wondered which generation lived in which house. I love to wonder about the lives of the people in these farmhouses and small towns—what are their lives like? Are they happy with them? And then there are those deserted houses, many of them literally falling down.

West Texas also has countless wind farms. Today those giant turbines moved slowly, apparently making do with little wind. I know people go up in them for maintenance, but it puzzled me that there was room for an elevator, and even for people. I saw towns that I’ve heard of but never seen, and towns that had connections for me—Sweetwater, Post, Snyder. Refreshed my memory about Albany and tried to remember which town has the first ever Hilton Hotel (it was Cisco, Texas).

We swung north into New Mexico, and somewhere along there in Texas and New Mexico we came into a land of vineyards, some small, some extensive, but they all looked like young vines. We also passed several orchards, the trees now bare, and I wondered what trees they were.

I’m sorry, but there’s not much good to say about southern New Mexico. It’s just there. But then we turned west and gradually came into the rounded foothills and then the mountains. Hondo Valley stretches like one long, stringy town between Roswell and Ruidoso. We went through San Patricio, and though I’d seen a weather-beaten sign for Hurd Gallery, I had no idea where Peter Hurd and Henrietta Wyeth Hurd had their fabled artistic getaway.

Watching the changing topography and the crops was fascinating. I sort of traced the history in my mind and gave Jordan and Christian mini-history lessons. They were polite bu I don’t know how interested they really were.

Now we’re in a huge two-story log cabin in the woods, all sixteen of us. We saw deer the first thing—a doe came right up to the cabin. Obviously she’d been fed from here before, so Christian rewarded her with a turkey and cheese sandwich. Everybody is exhausted from a long day of driving, but we’re blessed and grateful to be together.

Blessings on you and yours this holiday!