Our lack of a Playlist: The Week In Rapid Rotation and other posting the last couple weeks (thanks to the hundreds, if not thousands, who inquired after our absence) is due to another move, from our beloved rabbit hole in Montana to a warren in the hills north Santa Fe, New Mexico. If living at 5,000 feet wasn’t high enough, life above 7,000 feet should thin our blood sufficiently to keep what’s left of our gray matter, now mostly hare, from falling completely away. As has been our life-long practice, I’ve hopped down here without a job except that which I bring with me: the usual writing-for-dollars assignments that vary from the evolution of the big band to the evils of commercial compost. Short answer (once again): I did it for love. Or to follow it.
Leaving beloved friends, colleagues and high-school students (but don’t tell them that) made things difficult. But the journey was magical, leaving Bozeman at five one afternoon and driving through the night across Wyoming and northern Colorado: the surreal plume of smoke from a coal-fired electrical generating plant hovering in its own light, the deer caught browsing the Interstate median yards away from the corpse of a road-killed sister). Our moving van disappeared into Colorado for two days and after it arrived in New Mexico, our mover’s help likewise disappeared, leaving me and a diminutive, amazingly strong local named Eusebio to carry much of the load up the last steep 20 yards of our driveway the van couldn’t navigate.
Santa Fe has been welcoming despite the usual hassles of obtaining utility and internet hook-ups, transfering bank accounts, searching for affordable health care, getting lost in the tangle of streets and making our new home suitable for human habitation. A wonderful symphony concert, a very good meal or two, a beautiful snowfall and fabulous green shopping at the local Farmers’ Market have already justified the move. And, every time I look out the window towards the distant Sandia Mountains (the Sangre de Cristos pile up so closely behind us they can’t be seen) I think, for once, I’m going to enjoy living above ground.–Cabbage Rabbit