First Day of Autumn, First Frost

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

The Autumnal Equinox occured in Sedillo yesterday, September 22, 2009, at 15:18 MDT.

A cold front also brought us a frosty morning as the dogs and I went out to walk in the first sunrise of autumn.

Sunrise over the Los Pinos Ridge, as seen from the top of Los Pecos, in the High Meadow.

As we turned to go down the hill, we could see all of Cedar glowing in the gentle autumn sunrise, the Jemez mountains a blue shadow in the background. In the foreground, aspens are well on the way to turning.

The winterfat is fluffy and white, below the ridge; the grasses have taken on that autumnal frosty silver in the meadow.

Winter is coming. And it will be early.

We took the path along the middle fork of Sedillo Wash up into the woods. Though behind us, the mountain valley is lit up by the rising sun, here the shadow of the ridge mutes the colors, and keeps chilled in the frosty air.

Frost turns the gold on the rabbitbrush flowers to white, and softens the dark cryptogamic lichens and rock.

The season is changing, and the winter birds coming, Juncos taking the place of the Meadowlarks.

Living in the mountains, we can see the sunrise twice. Once from the top of the High Meadow, and then from the edge of Sedillo Canyon along Los Pecos. Here, on the way home, we stopped to watch the autumnal equinox sunrise again, from the woods along the road.

Another Equinoctical Storm

NEARLY WORDLESS SPECIAL

The Engineering Geek's official rain guage read 1.8" after a rain that started in the pre-dawn lasted until nearly 1 PM this afternoon

For perspective, our mountains usually get an average precipitation of 12 - 16 inches per year.

It was still misting lightly as the dogs and I ventured out to check on the area after the downpour stopped.

The water pools on the downhill side of a culvert, last stop before it cascades down the rocks and into Sedillo Canyon. I wish I had been willing to brave the mud and venture into the canyon. I might actually have seen water running in the arroyo there.

Water rilling and pooling on the flat area below the road. It will be slowed down by a narrow inlet into the east source for Sedillo Canyon. This is a very unusual sight. The area is usually either muddy or dusty.

Water makes the road across the lower high meadow into a lake. And a river. It will take more than one day of sunshine to do a meadow walk. And we've only had one meadow walk this week. This has been an exceptionally rainy September.






Water in the culvert at Los Pecos and Los Pecos.
Last night's wind brought down the dead twigs.
Today's rain is washing them away down to Sedillo Canyon.

Our walk was accompanied by the murmur, babble and laughter of falling water. Lots of it.

April Walk

NEARLY WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

April is almost over, and we have not yet taken an April "Walk with Me Wednesday."

Today is the day for it, sunny and warm, but windy.

This walk takes us back into the canyons of the hidden world.

The dawn is showing over the ridge and highlighting the buds on the Mountain Mahagony at the edge of Sedillo Canyon.

This time, we took the west fork,

walking north along the bed of Sedillo Creek.

Deeper into the canyon, the sunlight

does not yet reach the dry ground.

Crossing the at the meeting with the east branch

of Sedillo Creek, we turn south again,

following the east branch back up canyon.

The canyon bottom here is rocky and thick with

vegetation that is barely greening with spring.

Still, some signs of the changing season

are apparent in the sheltered canyon wall.

Here is the spring burrow of a rodent.

Who knows? Young may be growing

in there, sheltered under the bank.

As we climb south towards the meadow,
the sun finally reaches the height
where it can shine into the canyon,
changing the forbidding feel of the pre-dawn
into a play of light and shadow across our path.

We break out into the meadow,

where deep swales of greening grass

reveal the source of the east branch

of Sedillo Creek. A short walk along

the new grass of the meadow path,

and it's home for breakfast,

our April walk complete!

Pictures by Elisheva Levin and N., April 23 and 30, 2008.

Visions of Land Dancing in our Heads

We've known it was going to happen.

The high meadow in our development is going to be developed. The developer is actually reasonably concerned about the land and development, and so he has designated about half of the acrage within the development to be open space. And that's why we bought our house here.

The area is beautiful and the development convenants are such that it will remain that way. We believe that we are very lucky to own a bit of what Bruce calls "G-d's country."

And now the development of the high meadow has been approved by the county and is on the way. Our dead-end road will become the access point to that part of the development. As the survey team has been laying out the lot demarcations, Bruce and I have been going up there to scope things out. He has been thinking of buying some land up there that will have a good horizon for astronomy. Here is Bruce standing on the "astronomy lot" with Zoey and Lily. I took the picture from the boundary with the lot to the north, looking into Bruce's preferred lot.

I wanted to buy the lot next door to our present house, which is hilly and tree-covered, to protect our privacy here. Then, if we can get another lot up in the meadow, so be it. And Bruce has fallen in love with a lot at the top of the meadow that has some pinyon-juniper, but is mostly meadow land, where he would be able to control the light shining downhill, and have a great horizon. That lot is his first preference. Although he wavers a little between it and the one directly north, because it has the best horizon, he knows he would not control the light. Or the horizon itself. Someone could build a two-story 60 feet uphill, and then block that "best" horizon.

The lot is about a half-mile and bit from our present house, and a tad bit higher. Here is the roof of the present house from the building envelope of that lot. It looks closer because I used the zoom lens.

Anyway, yesterday, we sat down and signed a lot reservation prefered purchaser agreement with the realtor for the development, who happens to be our neighbor across the street. By next week we will know if we get that lot up on the meadow, or the one north (our second choice). Or the one next door (third choice).

And when all was said and done, and our neighbor Bill went across the street, I began to look around at the house I love, and I had second thoughts. And third thoughts. And then Bruce innocently broached an alternative idea.

Conversation in our kitchen last night:

Bruce: You know, we probably don't have to buy the lot next door. We probably would not put a house on it anyway.

Me: But I wanted it to provide a buffer between us and the new development. I like that lot--I feel close to it, I've been walking it every day!

Bruce: But I don't think anyone is going to rush to buy it anyway.

Me (knowing he is reasonable, but resisting a change in plans): Are we really going to build a house up on 1---? I mean, I'm not sure I want to be stuck up on the hill with no trees! And you are going to be difficulty to build with! You're such a perfectionist. the subs will hate you!"

This picture is of the lot next door. I love the trees. But the hill is topped by a lot of country rock. It would cost to build there.

The conversation did not go anywhere good. I think I was feeling overwhelmed by the idea of moving again, even though it would not be soon. I think I have an aversion to change, like N. does. A little bit of the 'broader autistic phenotype'--it's genetic, after all. I just could not handle the idea that the meadow is going to have houses, that "my" lot was was not going to be mine, and that I might have to move out of a house that I love, even though I would have a lot to say about the design of the new one. And the very thought of moving! I was also tired, hungry and a little overwhelmed by it all. I wanted to jump up and down and demand both lots. Alas, being much older than a two year old, that was not a good move. Instead, I left the guys to their gluing of flooring and read a book for a while, calming myself in the process.

The funny thing is, when we went up to meadow today, having signed the lot reservation, I began to appreciate "Bruce's" lot. It has views of the Sandias to the west, South Mountain to the north, and there are more trees on it than I remembered.

The picture is taken from the building envelope toward South Mountain. And that is just one of the views! Look 45 degrees to the left and it's the Sandia fault block, a blue jewel!

The lot is large and has an interesting shape--a trapezoid with a very narrow boundary along the cul-de-sac (not there yet) and a long boundary to the southeast, along what will be open space. The building envelope is large. Did I mention that there are trees? The boundary with the next lot to the southwest is through a thick stand of trees, so we would have privacy there, too. In the picture below, Bruce is walking towards that boundary. It's really not so bad. In fact, it is really very good. In fact, it is exactly what Bruce wants. When we first moved in out here, on the very first walk in the meadow, we walked on what would become that lot. And Bruce said to me: "The place to set up a scope is right here!" He was standing right in the middle of the building envelope.

I still get tired even thinking of building a house and moving in. But this is my beloved's dream. He is talking excitedly about passive solar design, trom walls and maybe even composting toilets. The garage would go on the highest elevation, whith the observatory above. And I would have a huge say in the floorplan of the new house. I could have one much like our home now, with those little changes that I have mentioned: A mud-room with separate entrance. An outside door in the garage. A larger master bedroom closet.

I have never agreed with Eric Segal that "love means never having to say you're sorry." I think love means that you have to say you're sorry often. Like I did this morning.

I think that love actually means that you can not say no to the deepest dreams of your beloved. Especially if you can get a mudroom out of the deal. Oh, and I checked out composting toilets on the web. They save water. They pay for themselves over the years. And they do not smell up the house. I can live with that.

Now I hope we continue to have first dibs on the lot! A week has to pass and then we'll see. A mudroom! Cool.

And look at this afternoon view of the Sandia Mountains!

I can definitely live with that!