From the River to the Mountains
Or Movin’ on Uptown as we say. I’ve written a bit about my new apartment with which I’m quite happy, especially with my very own bamboo tree/bush/plant? right outside a front window. It’s quiet and pleasant and so forth. However—it’s nearer the mountains than the river. I took a first foray into my new environment this morning, a couple of hours of a Bear Canyon/foothills trek. I was happy to be walking outside again but it’s just not the Bosque and that made me sad. No more ducks and geese enlivening my walks. No water in sight. Only scattered little Piñon trees; no bushes, brush, big cottonwoods. Oh sure, the vista is grand, in a brown-gold New Mexico kind of way, and the early morning air and light and sky have inspired a multitude of painters, and it is completely bugfree. In fact I only saw one single living creature, that one big black bug—a roach cousin I think—who’s managed to make the foothills his lonely home.
I’m going back on Thursday morning with my walking buddy Beth and I will learn to love the foothills. However there are some alternatives like driving over to the Bosque—maybe starting at the north end and doing some round trips or the 10-mile walks I must do to prepare for Greenland. If I have ducks and geese around on alternate walk days I’ll be happy, won’t I?