Roughly seven years ago; late-summer day under a New Mexico sky, the blue of which rivals all sky. Blue like taffeta. Like a French painter’s dream of sky—which is what lured painters to Taos in the 20th century to eventually become the “Taos School,” setting stage for an influx of artists and intellectuals including the likes of Georgia O’Keefe and D. H. Lawrence. I drove out of Taos where I’d retreated to an adobe, pond-side casita on a farm, attempting to mend my heart with beauty, art, and spicy-good food. Early that year, my then-husband had left our marriage in the midst of personal crisis—a blind-siding departure that nearly shattered me. But not quite.
That day the highway carried me north into Colorado and across to Four Corners where New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona share a geographical hip bump. I was on a pilgrimage of sorts, to sleep over in Cortez, Colorado, the childhood hometown on my maternal grandmother (who I and the family called ‘Nana’), en route to Four Corners. I was unprepared for the experience I encountered.
Driving into Cortez I headed for Nana’s girlhood home, but instead of finding her 30s-era State Street neighborhood, discovered a 1970s off-ramp…. {Read the remainder of this article on Patheos HERE.}
Love this. What a neat experience!
So much magic and mystery in this life. Beautiful.