the sogginess of Los Angeles

Let's just say - driving to work today was not remotely like the beauties of New Mexico yesterday.  It was raining (not, of course, something to be complained about, here) - not in a dramatic way, but in a steadily damp one.  It was, indeed, remarkably English weather.  

New Mexico dawn

And this was all within the space of ten minutes or so ... dawn started a fiery red; progressed to something more yellow and blue - and then, if you turned your head to see the sun catching on the Sandias, and on the Jemez mountains, and the Cerrillos Hills - there was the magnificent ice-bow in the sky - made by the sun shining through tiny ice particles.  I've seen the strange circular phenomenon of sundogs, once - but never this wonderful arc, which appeared even though there wasn't a raincloud in the sky - at least, not between where I was standing and the bow. And then, I turned my head back again, and the sky had turned a curdled yellow, and there on top of our birdhouse was a bluebird - I'd seen him or her head inside at dusk the previous evening (for all I know there was an entire bluebird family inside there, keeping warm).  Back, now, in LA - more or less revived, or at least sufficiently revived to be able to face the semester.

waiting for lunch

You wouldn't expect me to go back to Los Angeles without having some New Mexican food, would you?  So - after writing a 1600 word review, and before polishing up the syllabus for my grad course, I drove to my favorite diner, Harry's Roadhouse, for lunch ... coming back here, especially in winter when there are very few out-of-town people, always (as I'm sure I've remarked many times before) feels like home.  That empty chair?  You can think of that as the one that Alice would be occupying as she, too, waited for a lunch table, were she able to travel.  I'm hoping that we'll both be here at Spring Break.

What was that?  Oh, yes, you were wondering: a chicken burrito, with red.  (Red chile, that is - open to misinterpretation in that local, abbreviated form: I promise you it was water in my glass).  

chamisa, snow, rabbit tracks

Very little to do today of importance other than contemplate little bits of very ordinary, very beautiful nature - like this dried chamisa hovering over rabbit tracks in the snow (I'm ignoring review writing; syllabus writing; article-that's-nearly-overdue writing; admin correspondence ... yes, I guess all of that took place, too).

outside the front door

One beautiful evening; and two dead allium heads against the snow.  For those of you who wondering what it's like inside (current temperature at nearly 10 p.m. - a balmy 17 degrees) it's improving: the problem was a faulty damper on the (supposedly high-end, reliable, 18 months old) heating boiler.  That, however, did nothing to dampen (every bad pun intended) the wonder of being here, in the quiet.

a chilly sky

After six months, I've made it back to New Mexico for a couple of days of complete quiet - aka syllabus writing, review writing, article writing, etc etc, and collecting some books that I need for this semester's teaching.  Only ... the chill isn't just outside (down to 7 degrees F tonight, the weather forecast warns).  Something is very wrong with the boiler that supplies the radiant heat, it would seem, and I am huddled over a space heater (thank goodness for its existence in a closet), and will soon be huddled over a hot water bottle.  The house isn't completely frigid, and I'm trying to trap heat in it before I call Reliable Tech the minute they open in the morning, but it's not quite what I planned ... all the same, it's wonderful to be back.

Also - it's much warmer in Chicago, this year's MLA location.  Since I don't have to be there, I was avoiding it on the principle that it's always unbearably cold there.  That's called Ironic.

opening the bathroom window

I was highly ambivalent about opening the bathroom window after taking a shower this morning.  On the one hand ... steamed-up mirrors; horror of mould, etc.  On the other - it is, for Los Angeles, cold.  But practicality won out ... and here, as you can see, opening the window onto a new year reveals sunshine, and camellias in full bloom.  May this (and really, it wasn't that cold ...) be an excellent omen.