Perfect Days

One kind of perfect day starts with good friends in-town for a visit and a walk to breakfast a couple miles down winding gravel roads. Along the way to the cafe, we see flocks of small birds settle for just a moment in the piñon while mountains rise in the distance on every direction, Sandia, Jemez, and Sangre de Christo. Further along, the bulldozer re-grading an eroded section paused generously offering that we tramp through the foot of mud he just dug up. No thanks.  After breakfast we visit the new (to us) house that we are waiting to move into, before settling into an afternoon and evening of board games beside the fire. It starts to snow before sunset, but we have nowhere we need to go.

a re-creation as I forgot to take photos while our friends were here

Another is spending the day in a national park with your sweetie. This past Sunday Robert and I drove to Valles Caldera. The start was a bit rocky, literally. The Audi navigation system decided we should take a short cut over unpaved reservation roads. Up we climbed surrounded by snow-capped mountains and dramatic cliffs. The road was dry, not much rutted, and sturdy. I was concerned that the navigation might be taking us to a part of the park closed for the season, but as long as the road seemed safe and the scenery beautiful, onward. Eventually the navigation told us to turn left into a grassy pasture. That was at least one step beyond my comfort zone. So we doubled back and used the highway. 

a view of the Sangre de Christo mountains after we turned around on the reservation road

The road to Valles Caldera goes through Los Alamos and squeezes between the deep depressions of Bandelier and the high rim of the caldera. The winding asphalt led upward through snow-covered piñon and juniper and then downward towards a grassy plain dotted with volcanic domes. At the volcano discovery center we learned a little about the geographic history and about upcoming events at the park. Stargazing on the 20th sounds interesting, if cold. On our return to Santa Fe we grabbed a late lunch at a brewpub in Los Alamos. 

Valles Caldera

A less than perfect day is the one where you move into your new home. Moving is never fun. The crew we hired started loading at about nine thirty and was still unloading at six thirty that evening. When the movers disassembled our bed, Mocha ran all over the house howling. She eventually found the refuge in the little felt igloo we had set up for her in the closet. One particularly large piece of furniture, my desk, is still over at the old place. Our crew couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the office, at least not in a timely manner. The moving company is scheduled to bring it over on Monday afternoon.

After a long night of Mocha crying and complaining about her situation, the next morning we were happy to wake up in our new place. We are all settling in and looking for more perfect days.

What’s a perfect day for you? Have you had one lately?

Thanks for reading. See you next week.