The sound of katydids

In doing my best to blog every day, I find myself at the computer late on Sunday night. Outside the katydids serenade me. In the other room my husband sleeps and it’s very quiet. A time for contemplating.

Last night we had almost three inches of rain and this morning I received a call from Edna Smith Hiller, the protagonist in my book, Fly With The Mourning Dove. She celebrated her 94th birthday in July, and has been moved temporarily into another residence while the government rebuilds the residences at Home Lake, Colorado. This is a veteran’s retirement village where she moved a few years ago, I believe on her 90th birthday, the same time she gave up the keys to her car.

I know how difficult this was for her. It means waiting for others to take her to all the places in her beloved New Mexico which she still yearns to see. Not that long ago she spent most of every summer on the ranch above Tres Piedras at Tusas. No modern conveniences and no one lives there permanently anymore. It’s breathtaking, with the San Juans to the west and the Sangre de Cristos to the east. At nearly 9,000 feet, it literally takes away one’s breath.

I’ve spent time there with her on several occasions and seen the sunsets turn the mountains a blood red for which they were given the name, Blood of Christ Mountains.

I live in a lovely place, the home of my soul, where trees are as green and lush as a rain forest, where the water is crystal clear and the sky a brilliant blue 300 days out of the year. Yet, when we travel to New Mexico and spend time on the stark but exquisite high desert, I know that this too is the home of my soul. How this could be I don’t know, for I spent very little time there growing up. Something ancient and good speaks to me when I walk that land.

Edna tells me that rains have come, so this means the desert will soon bloom, a sight to behold. In churchyards and cemeteries where no grass grows, the cactus will burst into brilliant red blooms, all the more beautiful because of the desert that surrounds them. She said they will bloom just in time for frost to arrive.

That’s enough for tonight. But I made this my 10th blog in August just under the wire.

About veldabrotherton

For thirty years I've been a writer. Publication of my work began in 1994 . I'm pleased to have recently settled with Oghma Creative Media as my publisher. My brand is SexyDarkGritty and that applies to my western historical romances, mysteries, women's fiction and horror novels. I recently signed a contract to write westerns again, and what fun it's been working on the first one. If I weren't writing my life wouldn't be so exciting.
This entry was posted in cactus, desert, New Mexico, San Juans, Sangre de Cristos, Tres Piedras, Tusas. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The sound of katydids

  1. Vivian Zabel says:

    Ah, but you made it under the wire.AND you got rain. We had about 5 1/2 drops the other day. *sigh*Vivian

  2. Very beautiful post. I can see why you are writer. You put that across so eloquently. There are “those” places of our souls. The places we go that put our hearts to ease. I’ve never been to the desert. But I can see it from what you said. Teagan

  3. zhadi says:

    I love the phrase ‘places of the soul’… Your post made me feel peaceful, happy and very dreamy…

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