|Rodeo grandstand in background|
At the opening ceremonies each day, tribal elders and folks of note in the tribal community lead a procession followed by all the categories of dancers while about a dozen different drumming groups (six or seven singers in a circle, each with a long padded stick chanting in unison and beating out a rhythm on a giant drum) accompanying them from the sidelines. All I could think was if I was an early settler and heard that insistent chanting and drumming, the thrumming bells and jingles of dancing feet, I'd figure I was a gonner. Standing close to the inaugural procession, its power was something to behold, circling the grounds in a ONE-two, One-two rhythm that mesmerized the audience and dancers alike. I had my favorites, dancers I hoped would win in their respective categories.
I loved the gals with the jingle skirts, made from tin can lids I was told, but she might have been pulling my leg. I should mention the watermelon iced tea was a big hit with us.
|drum circle chanters|
It's monsoon season here, every afternoon serious rain complete with hail, lightening and thunder rolls over the valley, drenching the grateful earth. As a result, wildflowers abound. Hollyhocks, Russian sage, wild white desert poppies, blue hazed fields of chicory, daisies, bachelor buttons, pink thistles in profusion fill the fields. The hillsides seem greener, the sagebrush's grey-green more vibrant. It's the best thing about this place, to my mind. The Farmers' Market is quite good. One tires of the endless exudation of brown houses. I'm sure there are loads of rationales for it, but.. sigh...I sense a wee frisson at the sight of a rare two story house. We haven't ventured very far afield, but plan heading west some, to Farmington, Chama, Abiquiu, eventually.
|farmers' market band|
I managed to locate the only real nursery and bought some zinnias for the pots of half dead fleurs on the porch. It's Fiesta weekend this weekend on the Plaza, yesterday we enjoyed an amazingly good Tejano band on the bandstand there.
We appear to have a family of skunks living under the garden shed in the backyard. A mum and five absolutely adorable babies who come out to sun themselves and have a frolic in the afternoon sun, tails aloft as they roll and tumble playfully over each other, I watch from the window. I never thought I'd see the day I found skunks fascinatingly cute.
It's turning out to be a Steinbeck Summer. Can't get enough of him. Glad he wrote so many books.
Still... I feel quite homesick for a place I can't seem to find on a map.
Nevertheless, I thought this had definite appeal....