Endings and Beginnings

This is the last day of the workshop, our last day in Santa Fe.  Ili is sad to leave the little home we have had for the past five days, a Sam Shepard hotel situated between an arroyo and a parking lot with its functional kitchen and wifi.  I am going to jump ship at the workshop early today so that I can explore Santa Fe with her before we drive north to Taos where we will stay in an earthship.  Ili picked it out.  It is out of town on the plain, away from the city lights where we will be able to listen to coyotes and gaze at the stars.

I've listened to coyotes before.  They keep you up all night.

So far, I haven't taken any pictures this trip.  Today I hope to begin.  Neither of us has felt well so far, 80% at best some days, 40% others, and though we have never been truly bedridden, we have sometimes been the walking wounded.  Ili says we will be healed in Taos.

Here is a picture of a trailer used as bathroom and kitchen for the workshop attendees.  The land around it is worth lots.  Last night, I took Ili there for the workshop dinner--three or four pound slabs of salmon and a three and a half foot pan of paella.  And wine.  We took Rioja.  Ili had not seen the studio yet and on the way there she looked up house prices on Zillo.  Many were over a million.  She wants to find something and move here.  Dinner outside watching the hummingbirds feed.  A fiery red and blue sunset.  The falling temperatures.  Stars.

This morning is cool, the sky bright and cloudless, the coffee almost gone.  I must pack up and check out.  Everything is always ending.  Everything always begins.