I don't remember a whole lot of life in New Mexico. I remember a green room with lots of stairs and green carpet (that in true childhood fashion, we played king of the hill on and did our level best to kill each other with), I remember Danielle's house and their cat disappearing (hiya, coyotes!) and her brother not being allowed to play outside and something about a dog, I remember an upturned dish on the floor that I think had a massive cockroach trapped under it but it might have been a scorpion, I remember not being allowed in a shed (although that might have been Utah, now that I think about it), I remember colors and smells and dirt and feelings of age and stillness, and I remember getting into lots of trouble with Arielle (Ariel?) and Danielle, I remember wind and bright and balloons, and I remember a bush. I don't remember why I remember a bush, but it's there. being bushy.
Reading
Tony Hillerman's novels made me feel like I'd grown up there, that his words plugged into my kidlet memories and extrapolated them further somehow.
so go read
The Blessing Way and don't stop til you get to
The Shape Shifter, because the world has lost another artist, another man with the deft touch that allowed us to smell and breathe and taste the world he created with words on paper, and the truest tribute for him is to fall back into his world.
Hagoone'
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