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May. 26th, 2004 11:59 pmBackpacking in the desert is like swimming in the ocean. The first thing you notice is the temperature, nearly debilitating at first, but later mellowing to almost pleasant. Your skin becomes rough and breathing becomes a conscious chore. It seems that any second visible crystals will form from the shimmery light-dispersing coat your skin has somehow picked up.
It’s always amazing how far one has to travel to be in the middle of nowhere. For me, from a brunch downtown to country only four or five people see in a year, the distance is fifty miles and nine hours.
I spent the last five days playing around in the abundant streams of Southern New Mexico. (Oh, don’t laugh, this is the most water we’ve had in years.) Water is flowing, fish are jumping, the columbines are blooming, and I have blisters on both feet. It was lovely, but it's nice to be back home.
Today I have been enlisted to lay sod. Mike has broken his ankle and is therefore spending time around the house. He's become inspired to create a patch of lawn to entertain on between the tree house and garden, but seeing as he's walking on crutches the job has fallen to me. I don't mind, it feels good to get my fingers into chalky-clay soil, and wield my pick like a refuge from anger management. I'm developing matching blisters at the base of my thumbs, a powerful reminder that it's been too long since my calluses formed.
Life is quiet, slow, full. I hope early summer is this good to all of you.
It’s always amazing how far one has to travel to be in the middle of nowhere. For me, from a brunch downtown to country only four or five people see in a year, the distance is fifty miles and nine hours.
I spent the last five days playing around in the abundant streams of Southern New Mexico. (Oh, don’t laugh, this is the most water we’ve had in years.) Water is flowing, fish are jumping, the columbines are blooming, and I have blisters on both feet. It was lovely, but it's nice to be back home.
Today I have been enlisted to lay sod. Mike has broken his ankle and is therefore spending time around the house. He's become inspired to create a patch of lawn to entertain on between the tree house and garden, but seeing as he's walking on crutches the job has fallen to me. I don't mind, it feels good to get my fingers into chalky-clay soil, and wield my pick like a refuge from anger management. I'm developing matching blisters at the base of my thumbs, a powerful reminder that it's been too long since my calluses formed.
Life is quiet, slow, full. I hope early summer is this good to all of you.
