3.21.15 As Tarantulas postured their protective threat on their beautiful furred brave legs

     When I was 19, I was living in a tiny house, in a barrio in Albuquerque, with my boyfriend. Waitressing , going to art classes at night at UNM, and falling in love with the great diversity of humans , the broad plains and deserts , the tapped out Rio Grande, and the Sandia Mountain Range that loomed over a then fledgling city of one story buildings. 

    

     The Sandia Crest was similar to our Mt. Holyoke Range here in this neighborhood , only 10,000 ' above sea level. 

     When it was 100• down in the dry hot city, there was a dusting of snow up on the crest. 

     A long languorous drive up hairpin turns delivered you to the wonder of the crest, where as far as the eye could see, there was desert, the city, and distant mesas.
Preparing to divorce, my parents traveled to see me once, not speaking to each other , like some bad dream of an I Love Lucy show.
     Like hanging with two not nice ever five year olds .we did go up the tram, of course, to the elegant restaurant at the top, for a ridiculous elegant meal.
     When they finally left, I grabbed a few friends, and went out to swoon in the relief of a hike in the foothills , barren and desert-rich ,
     as Tarantulas postured their protective threat on their beautiful furred brave legs,
and the wild creatures climbed the rugged hills all around us.