Terrace

Sitting on the terrace, drinking coffee.  About nine in the morning.  Nice morning.  Heading to Albuquerque in about an hour.  Day trip.  What to do until then?  How about the terrace from which I write about this spot in northern New Mexico that I've come to love?  Good enough for a short note?

   
My first morning here, that high peak in the distance had snow on it.  For about a day.  Then no more snow.  Point is, this is the view I look out upon when I look up from my laptop.  This morning there are only the thinnest wisps of clouds over the mountain.  It's a little hazy, too, but not much.  I love how the clouds rise up from the opposite side of that mountain.  They seem to be pushed from a lower altitude, up and over that high range.  And then they just hover there.  

And there's the terrace itself.  I sit on an old van seat.  I sit on it in the morning.  I sit on it after lunch.  I sit on it at night.  At night I can't see the mountain.  At night I can't see much at all.  Very dark.  Only stars.  Stars and the sounds of dogs.  This has become my private spot.  Where I send emails to my friends, my mom, to Stan, to Rose Mary.  We talk all day long, talk, work, eat, walk.  I will be sad to leave here.  I should drive to Albuquerque now before I get choked up.  Magpies can be very noisy.