Finding Home & My Heritage

It's a gift and I treasure it. 

Occasionally, over the years, I've bemoaned my inability to make money, but being able to discover magical places and, best of all, find my way home each evening, is priceless.

I'd done maybe 40 miles of freeway and had had enough. And, like a cat, I had to go see.

Photos merely serve as reminders; they can't capture the beauty or grandeur.

The saguaro points to an arch in the tippy-top of the dike.

Phoebe hasn't had her picture taken in a while. Her coloring blends nicely with this stark, gray-brown country, dontchewt'ink?

Note German flag above license plate. 

I worked for a while in the University of New Mexico's College of Education's division of Language, Literacy & Sociocultural Studies (LLSS). Twenty-two faculty of various ethnicities, religions and political persuasions taught teachers how to teach cultural diversity. I designated myself the resident Teuton and taped a brown paper sack with the German two-headed eagle on it to my office door.

A visiting professor stopped by once. I nearly laughed aloud as he harumphed his prodigious bulk while asserting that he was Austrian. Still a skinny young lad, I couldn't match his "harumph" but was able to assert my origin in Nürnberg (2nd-largest city in the state of Bavaria after München and the historical capitol of Franconia.) and further attested that my lineage -- as my mother told it -- dated back to King Henry II (he of the large lower lip), a medieval monarch who led one of the many pagan tribes of Franks. (my middle name, Frank, is in honor of this heritage.)

Thus, in recognition of my ancestry and with ever a nod to the LLSS faculty: several Puebloans; descendants of Spanish Conquistadors; a Zen Buddhist; a Jew; three lesbians (sort of like The Three Graces) and many others, When occasion arises, such as when folks are "sharing" their nationalism, I fly the flags of Germany & Nürnberg.

Humble Home

Rolling Steel Tent was musing on the idea of home. I'm fortunate to have a gift for finding my way each evening. But, as I comment on his blog, some are more humble than others.

See Deborah Donahue's: The Western Range Revisited

Let It Rain

Sometimes this itchy-feet thing gets a little nerve-rattling. I rarely look at weather predictions, they're often akin to astrology....great when accurate; not so much when off. 

Having read about the rain, I contemplated doing what Rolling Steel Tent did. A couple of weeks ago, when the forecasters were warning, I headed west, into the oncoming storm, and made a narrow escape from four or five days of SNOW! (See: When Old Man Winter...)

Whilst perusing the map I recognized a place that'd earlier caught my eye. Several miles into it I came up against a wall:
PRIVATE PROPERTY NEXT 8 MILES NO CAMPING.

I'd come five and another eight was too far. It was a good time to water the lawn. There in the dark, lightning let me know hit whar uh-comin'. Hmmmm.

I knew a spot about 15 miles away and headed back toward the highway. Entreating the goddess to work her magic, I'd noticed the big turnout on my way in but this time decided to have a look.  A small track went behind the dirt pile and continued further. Some reflective cones beckoned. And there, barely discernible in the dark, was a two-track into the wilds. And it lead to the prettiest little grassy spot you can imagine. I put out my gnomes and mushrooms, greeted everyone around and was in turn acknowledged with a coyote chorus.


And the stars continued to shine until it was time to sleep.

Home!

Home On The Range

I had been on the road to Canada about a week (summer 2010) when I stopped for the night on a Wyoming mesa. The dirt road was a county connector between "highways."

I drove off-road (apologizing PROFUSELY to the plants) to be out of range of headlights in the night. I was reading when I noticed the light had changed. I looked up to see a magnificent sunset streaming o'er low clouds.

To the east, a squall advanced. The sun worked its magic.

As the storm moved closer the rain raised puffs of dust. Then, a complete, end-to-end double rainbow formed.

The light kept changing. (Different from traffic lights.)

The other end.

As the clouds dispersed the cerule peeked from behind and I knew, once again, I'd found my way home.

Home is wherever I am

Uber den Himmel Wolken ziehen,
Uber die Felder geht der Wind,
...Irgendwo uber den Bergen
Musse meine ferne Heimat sein.

Hermann Hesse, Poems (1902)

Across the sky the clouds move,
Across the fields, the wind,
...Across the mountain, far away,
My home must be.