200 Square Feet with Catio Views

This is a diary of our unique life on the road with our two cats. I write this so we remember what we did and where. Follow along if you are curious!

NM Stream of Consciousness

Enough Really Can Be Enough!

Blowing dust mountains in soft focus. Constant roar and shaking, cats’ naps interrupted. Don’t forget to hide the wind chime. Desert birds don’t mind dirt in their water.

Endless views. People from all walks and talks. Sunsets, stop, stare, soak it in. Stars just above the mountain.

Small talk is hard sometimes. It’s okay to change your mind. Hot springs for sore joints. California Poppies, Florida Mountains, New Mexico. Quail and Ibex, hunters next door, mal de ojo. Very mal.

Cactus Wren nests in the cholla, canyon wrens in the canyon heard and not seen from the catwalks. Ghostly old mining towns, desperation and greed, like Deadliest Catch. Salsa macha on everything.

Tan arms, raking dust and rocks, yeah, yeah your dog is friendly, sure. Heard that before. Eighty-five and still raking. Keep moving, stay curious. Uh-oh, inbound. The sign says it’s potable.

Good people, sunshine, early blooms, beautiful poppy in our campsite. That’s the thing, the poppy, happiness, contentedness, grateful, corny, sappy. Even the cats. I sure could use a good haircut, maybe in Vegas?

2 responses to “NM Stream of Consciousness”

  1. cheerful08cd784e67 Avatar
    cheerful08cd784e67

    Laurel & Greg: Another blog gem that conjured memories of the West. And, dust storms? I (Dad King) remember standing outside our canvas-flapped windowed house one summer late afternoon when I was around seven or so (1943), seeing a large, yellowish-brown cloud rolling toward me from the East. I looked up and saw a B-24 headed that way toward Williams Amy Air Force Base where my dad worked. It was 10 – 15 miles from our town and at that time, a bomber training base. The plane suddenly made a U-turn and headed for Luke AAFB west of Phoenix. I knew a dust storm was coming, ran into the house and told my mom. She promptly closed the flaps on the windows. At the time, she was making spaghetti and meatballs for supper. Dad would be home in an hour. Boom. The dust storm hit and rattelled the house, dust blowing its way into every nook and cranny including the spaghetti pot. The storm passed, Dad came home and we ate crunchy spaghetti because it was wartime, we were not well off and wasted nothing. But, we laughed at the whole episode while spending the next couple of days sweeping up and cleaning out our swamp cooler into which the sand had blown and turned to mud. Love, Dad & Mom King ________________________________

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    1. Wow! That actually makes dust storms sound exciting! Crunchy spaghetti is adventure eatin’!

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