I spent three weeks, seven months, and two hours at the Datil cabin this fall. There's a weird time-wrinkle there, maybe because I spend days at a time reading odd things (besides this blog) and hearing elk bugle.
The above pictures were happening simultaneously. A rainbow at the last possible moment of the day.
|Also not-elk. I call her Janice.|
|Not much merc at the Merc 'n' Tile.|
|I allow other people to pun when it's their turn.|
|Pot of gold - a fresh cup of coffee enjoyed in a mountain cabin.|
|Bridge over Nogal Canyon, as seen from Nogal Canyon.|
|This is not a Datil tarantula|
The morning I left the cabin I saw the season's first tarantula, looking for love in whatever places it wants. Mountain tarantulas are a lot smaller than the Lowlanders. Tarantulas are several years old before they make the autumn Journey of Courtship. If you see him out and about, give him a break; he's waited a long time for the chance to get lucky.
|A different perspective: Elephant Butte Lake from the east side.|
Soon I'll be headed north to Taos for frolicking fun: four fuzzy feline friends (and their two devoted servants). A quick break, and then we're headed for a brand-new adventure that I'll try to enhance, embroider, and embellish for your reading "pleasure."