Posted by: highmountainmuse | July 28, 2009

The return of the rains

A storm coming down canyon between the Rio Grande Pyramid and the mighty river.

A storm coming down canyon between the Rio Grande Pyramid and the mighty river.

I sit here writing to you in my usual place near the fire, yes, a fire even at home inside my log cabin in the summer. It is chilly here in the early morning hours as I sit here awaiting the security of sunrise over Finger Mesa.  Even in summer the horses will await it too, find it, standing like sundials with their broad sides facing the warm glow, a blessing each morning.  Some things are not taken for granted, ever. 

Mornings we look to the west and see nothing but the clearest of skies, not a waft of a cloud, a still even blue. By noon, up canyon a mass builds and swells with a growing bank of deep purple and grey, laden with promise of sweet, sweet rain, alive, escalating, intensifying.

The ground has been parched, cracking, grass crunching beneath our feet.  We know it is but the surface drying out; beneath which is still moist and rich and full of life, as assured by the greenness of the trees and meadows and hillsides surrounding us. The storms build and pass, blessing or foregoing us directly, perhaps letting lose but a canyon away, as we watch the veil of cloud move east from the Divide, a gentle silky sweep in the sky that we watch in anticipation.  Will it grant us with moisture today?  Will we find ourselves soaked in the saddle again?

The heavy and humid air of the approaching monsoons is charged with electricity, alive and powered by forces so beyond our abilities, our understandings. And when it lets loose, unleashes its fury, dumps its treasure on our grateful lands, we revel in the moisture, the cooling, the beating sound on the metal roof, the smell of the sweet dampness on the sun soaked soil.  The creeks swell and run milky brown, as small rivulets run down the slightest of grades on every hill, path, and pasture.

But for now, it is blue.  It is calm.  There is no indication of what may be, probably will be… except perhaps for that single puff of a cloud at the edge of our view above the mountains to the west… perhaps the promise of what will build and grown and turn once again in the fiery wet storm that may briefly pass us over again today.



  1. I havent been on the comp for sometime . things are not good .Im going back and read all the posts i have missed . Sitting by the fire with a good cup of coffee watching the storm roll in sounds so peacefull . Its 95 here as i write this with a high today of 109 . Its been like that for days . well just as soon as i can get rid of everything im going somewhere cool . Oregon coast maybe . if i have to im going to put a small trailer on the car and if it fits it goes if not the owners can have it . The only thing realy important is a urn with ashes my great grand father bible and a scruffy white dog . who know i might end up in your country . your writes and pictures make it sound like heaven .Work on the land is not a problem . if i could build a small cabin for me and the dog it would be wounderful
    So much for dreaming .But i am leaviing here verysoon .i will keep up with your writings no matter where i am .Caring people are hard to find . Sorry about the rambling.

  2. I think caring people find caring people, or perhaps bring that kindness out of others, just like beauty being in the eye of the beholder. You, my friend, Don, are as kind as what you see in me and the community here.

    OK, I for one care a great deal about you, and think moving on, just packing up the important things and starting off on a new life, a new adventure, is a brave and wonderful thing to do. As long as you know you are not alone, and that many folks here care about you! I want to hear more, and help in any way I can.

    In case you don’t get to see this response, I’ll write you directly as well. And to any other readers who I know care and want to reach out directly to Don at this time, I’m taking the liberty of sharing his e-mail address so that we can be there in our way for Don at this difficult time:

    With love,

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