Going Walking not Shopping

My friend is a member of the Audobon society that manages the wetland area south of Santa Fe. When I saw her pictures of the area I knew I had to go. There is a small pond with reeds, and rolling acres of cottonwood studded grassland. Birds are thick, their cries echo in the stillness. That is where I started my Thanksgiving Day.

The land lies quiet and fallow, sleeping for the season. Olive leaves curl under my feet, the crunch sounding loud in the the stillness. To an artist's eyes the landscape is a riot of color, all ochres, umbers, and sages; textures defining the space.

I am at peace.