I should be devising a new stragedy for contending with the mobility issue, but I’m not. Everything involves long treks to doctor’s offices, and I just don’t want to go. I want to work on my novel and walk along the river in the winter light. I don’t want to leave here right now at all.
The only word that describes what I feel for the San Luis Valley is love, and I have the strangest feeling it’s requited. Last night (when I was not sleeping because I thought I should be coming up with a stragedy) I thought about how I came here.
Long ago, a decade before I retired, I thought of buying a house in a remote place at a low price. My first thought was Farmington, NM and I killed free time in my office at the university by looking online at houses in Farmington. I thought it was a good bet for me — college town, etc. Talking it over with a colleague, he said it was really a good idea — and then HE bought a house in Farmington, NM and retired there!
Then a girl came to the university to buy textbooks from faculty members. You see, publishers send us books without our even asking for them so we all end up with dozens of books — brand new, beautiful — that we don’t want. Book buyers contact faculty, buy the books (free money!!!) and resell them. Anyway, this girl came to meet up with me and buy my books. She was fresh, open, clear-headed and there was something about the way she talked. As a person who had taught English as a language, I’m aware of even small regional accents. I said, “Where are you from?”
She said, “You wouldn’t have heard of it. A tiny town in Colorado.” (Coloraduh)
“I’m from Colorado,” I said. “I might’ve heard of it.”
“You are? Well, OK. Del Norte. See, you haven’t heard of it.” (Del Nort)
“Yeah, I have. It’s in Southern Colorado. I don’t think I’ve been there, but maybe.”
I started looking at houses in Del Norte. Then I looked at the map to see what other towns there were and I found a house in Monte Vista and I fell in love with it. I looked at it online for two years (property doesn’t sell quickly in Monte Vista). The house lured me to the San Luis Valley.
As my friend drove me from DIA to Monte Vista on August 1, 2014, and we topped Poncha Pass and I saw the Valley, I fell in love. There was an immense sky, mountains on two sides, green cultivated fields and empty fields of rabbitbush. Ponds reflecting clouds. Trees along the arroyos. Old beat up signs from other times. Cattle and horses in the pastures. The huge sprinklers that define circles on the ground. And the sky, always the amazing, changing sky.
I saw the house, but it turned out to be impractical for me. I moved into a house around the corner from it about two months later. I’d never been here before that August afternoon.
If you read my blog, you know how I feel about being here. I love it. I love the animal tracks in the snow and dust and the animals I’ve seen. I love the mountains on both sides of me and the rain shadow they create. I love the sun which shines most of the time, and silvery snow sky in January. I love the summer thunderstorms, their arching rainbows, and I love the slight magic of rainbows in the virga. I love the golden cottonwoods and aspen in the fall, the blue of the Rio Grande threading its way across the valley. I love the farms and ranches, the heavily loaded potato trucks, the passing and staying Sandhill Cranes. The eages and hawks and buzzards afloat in the sky when I walk through the slough along the river. The owls I met last summer. The sound of a fox in the night. The mystery of the Sand Dunes and the beach of Medano Creek. The people around me who are warm, friendly and independent — like me. I love the ancient Hispanic culture. I love the beautiful old churches built by people of every faith. I love the small town that asked me to live here, its annual celebrations and their sincerety. I love the way people on a trail greet my barky, scary black dog. I love the long conversations about the weather and the future and the crops and animals while we look into the sun. For the first year I lived here I wasn’t always sure I hadn’t died and gone to Heaven, seriously.
Anyway, after the frustrating, disappointing and angering doctor’s appointment this past Friday, about which I had been seriously stressed out knowing it would lead — imagining it would lead — to surgery that I don’t even want to have, I drove home. The mountains to the north of Poncha Pass look like the Colorado I knew as a kid and young woman. They are different from the San Luis Valley. Dazzlingly beautiful, but not the same.
I crested the top of the pass and began the descent which is pretty straight down after a windy upward climb. Then there is a curve and then, in front of me spread “my” valley. At that moment a certain song came on my radio. Sometimes I think my car radio has some kind of strange cosmic connection in the way it can show up with the perfect soundtrack for a moment, and that’s what happened. I felt like the San Luis Valley was welcoming me home.
28 thoughts on “Home”
Wow, how beautiful! You made your home come alive! I could nearly smell the glistening snow and the other aromas on the cool crisp air. I could see your home through your eyes. Brilliant. Loved it, Martha and thank you. I feel as though I’ve been by watching and seeing through your eyes 🙂
The love of your land shines through with every post, Martha. And I smile every time.
🙂 I think it’s mutual, if that’s possible
I love getting signs from the universe. I’m also loving your Mt. Everest book so far!!
I’m so happy to hear that you’re loving the book of trails and dogs and questions. ❤ If you feel like writing a review, I'd be grateful since you actually bought it from Amazon.
I actually have the impression that the San Luis Valley thinks it's going to fix my hip. I'm prefectly willing to let it try at this point.
For you Martha, a million times yes 🐶🐾
Thank you!!! ❤
I understand your feelings completely. The same happened to me when I moved into Switzerland. Zürich was my town for 2 years, but when I arrived in Solothurn and afterwards my little village I knew I was here to stay. OK, it was then already 20 years. I never missed London, it never called me back. These things happen in life with a reason I suppose.
I think so. It’s like our heart already knows where home is. We just have to follow it. 🙂 I think there’s a big part of my heart that thinks CH is home, but knows we can’t live there unless the hermitage finally says, “OK! Martha! Come here!”
Funny about how music just shows up like that, isn’t it?
Find the right doctor. Find the right surgery. Everything will happen in its own time and if it isn’t immediate, then it will still happen … in its own time. I keep finding that no matter how hard I rush, it all happens when it happens. Life ignores me completely and does its own thing — and we just get tossed into the mix.
Yep. I think you’re right. For now people are just going to have to deal with me walking sideways down stairs, and if they want to go with me, they’ll have to stroll. I will tell them simply that I’m fine, they don’t have to worry or fuss (which I hate and they do), that I can go the whole way, and they don’t have to lecture me because I know what’s going on. I’m just going to let things evolve until the right moment and the right doctor. I’ve had two recommendations for the same doctor up in Boulder and maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ll go to Boulder. 🙂
I finally figure out that all that stressing I did accomplished NOTHING. So now I don’t. Everything happens, somehow. For you too. I walk sideways. A lot of us do for various reasons. Walking slowly is still WALKING. Which is a good thing.
I love…I love…I love every time you write about those memoriesofatime, though short lived, in July 1976: the drive from Garden City, Kansas, across the wildernesses, into the Beauty and the mountains: nothing overwhelming. Just simple beautiful for us “townies.” Then, the Great Sand Dunes (which this arthritic body could not climb today): Awe… The kids didn’t care about art in Taos, the Indians were pouting, so the ruins were closed, but we all visited the ER at the Alamosa hospital. The baby then had illness. And that is all I can say about that, my only time in a small “lovely” corner of Colorado. Thanks, Martha
But you didn’t forget it, did you! 🙂 ❤
Perfect song. Perfect tribute to the place that seems to have chosen you as much as you chose it. My mom used to say after she moved from Utah Valley to Lander, Wyoming, that the landscapes offered by her new home gave solace to her soul. I think you receive that same solace from Monte Vista. What was with the doctor? Just an ugly person? Did you get a shot?
I think Lander is beautiful. 🙂 And yeah. I honestly feel that this place heals me. I guess it can’t fix my hip, but… I’m emailing you about the doc.
I hear you. I knew from the time I was about 8 that where I am now was my place – where my soul lives, I think, even if it does sound a bit OTT.
I know what you mean, it does seem over the top but it’s how it is. I think there really are more things in Heaven and Hell than are dreamt of, etc. (because I can’t remembr). My soul DOES live here and as a result I can think more clearly and I feel more alive, am more alive. ❤
More alive, and more at peace
P.S. I painted a picture of this place when I was 5. I found it when I packed up stuff to move here. I was blown away. It’s like I always knew.
I couldn’t respond to your photos yesterday. I was so enthralled by them. Now, I must go and do some art. It has forgotten to be hot here today. Exits singing ‘Take Me Home Country Road’.
😀 When you finish, sing “Rocky Mountain High” — it’s the Colorado state song.
I think sometimes a place calls to us – from our hearts. I know that same calling and spend too many hours looking at houses in the Shenandoah valley of Virginia. I know my heart belongs there and someday I’ll call it home. Your story inspires me.
This is truly amazing. Serendipity calling you here. *sigh* sounds perfect. And in your words can actually see the valley. Thanks for the tour it was fantastic.
You’re welcome! A great thing about blogs is that — I didn’t really know where Saskatoon was before I “visited” your afforestation area. 🙂
Yes, that is quite common for us Saskatoonians, and yet the valley you call home sounds so absolutely amazing, and I too, had never heard of that neck of the world. That, of all the things said of the internet, that is one of the wonderful things.
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