The Windy City ain’t got nothin’ on us this month. I understand that Spring is marked by the winds here. While the early part of March was ‘lamb-like,’ this last of March is definitely blow-y. You know it’s blowing a small gale when the dog’s leash bows out before the gust.
Aside from the fact that I really don’t like the wind, especially coming out of the West as these winds are, the gusts bring with them a high fire danger.
Last week, there were two fires in the immediate area, both on the grass range lands that lie south-easterly of town. Fortunately, neither did significant damage, burning a couple of acres and being extinguished in less than a couple of hours. Both were started in part by high winds, either by taking down power lines or catching some other type of spark and lighting it up. A couple of interesting lines in the newspaper about the more recent of the two. First, the first fire company on the scene had to use its water conservatively until another fire company got there with their water tanker. That made me wonder – how else do you fight a grass fire except by dousing it with lots of water and what do you do if you don’t have enough water with which to douse? Oh, I know there’s fire retardant, but not for small grass-land fires like this.
That doesn’t mean there aren’t losses sustained, in this case a shed, a garage and a chicken house. Which brings me to the second story line of note, and I quote, "The chickens are believed to have escaped the fire."
The chickens escaped? How do they know the birds blew the fire? Was there a fowl fire-alarm where all the chickens went and stood around outside the chicken coop while the alarm sounded, just like you see outside of office buildings in the city? And while the chickens were hanging out, some went down the street to Cornbucks for a hominy-latte and others used the excuse to sneak out of the pen for the day? At least that could imply that chickens are smarter than turkeys. Domestic turkeys are known to stand in the rain, turn their beaks up to the sky, thereby drowning themselves. But chickens, without the help of fire marshals in orange vests, can organize themselves to escape a burning chicken house. And to think, the only hazard the chickens that lived next to us on Comus Rd had to face was to occasionally avoid the fox at night, and more often, defend themselves against the dog that was confined to the pen supposedly to protect them from the fox.
A slightly more serious side to the subject of fire, a couple of weeks ago we noticed, when walking Nutmeg around the long block, that there was a burned circle in the grass at the end of an arroyo that led directly up to the back of our house. We don’t know the history of this small black circle nor even how long it’s been there, but it gave us pause. Fire moves fast across these grasslands and up the dry arroyos. I’ve read the stories of the major fires and their destruction, power and threat. There’s a scary intimacy with fire when it can move quickly from a tiny spark to a fireline moving several miles an hour – and it’s in your neighborhood.
The topic of one of the classes Nick and I took at the Western Institute for Lifelong Learning was enjoying hiking in the wilderness. It actually turned out to be more about survival skills than just playing Thoreau, which was fine, since we don’t know this territory and, as I’ve mused before, hiking here has far different risks and challenges than walking the C&O Canal Towpath. We learned some very interesting things about putting together survival kits. We were encouraged to take a small survival kit in a fanny pack just to go on a day hike. I asked whether they would carry anything on a two-hour walk with the dog, and they assured me that even a two-hour walk with the dog can turn into a 48 hour ordeal. For example: a couple and their dog went up a short canyon with a clear trail that lay immediately off a main highway. The trap: they had to cross a stream in a couple of places on their walk up the canyon. The crisis: they didn’t know how to read the clouds and they got caught by a cloud-burst that drenched them and swelled the stream so that they couldn’t cross it. So they spent a night soaked and cold, with no supplies or resources except their dog – it probably wasn’t a Chihuahua because an 11 oz dog wouldn’t do much to help keep them warm. Anyway, the class was impressed to plan for the key concerns: 1— water; 2—body temperature; 3—fire, 4—first aid, 5—signal for help. So even a day kit should include water plus water purifiers (for the forest; wouldn’t do much good in the desert), 3 ways to keep warm, 3 ways to start a fire and 3 ways to signal for help. Many of the individuals in the class are already veterans of the wilderness experience: one plus the instructor are on the local Search and Rescue, several have taken some impressive hikes, and all have gotten lost!
This led to sharing tales and swapping tips. My favorite fire starter tip – take the cardboard core from a roll of toilet paper, stuff it with dryer lint and soak the lint with paraffin, and tuck it into a baggie – lights fast, lights hot, and stays lit for enough time to catch damp kindling.
Nick has been back in Maryland for a week and a half now, and was supposed to come home on Thursday this week. Now he’s had to extend his stay into next week. He’s taking care of some renovations and repair to my mother’s house so that it can be rented. We finally gave up on finding a builder willing to pay a reasonable price for the land, pushed by having a pipe burst in the house early in February and run water for a week, we figure. I miss him, and tend to go into a shell after a few days. But this weekend, I’m going out on the town!!! If you talk to Nick, though, tell him it’s perfectly harmless. Steph, Skee, Cheryl and I are going to see Fiddler on the Roof at the Fine Arts Theatre. It’s a production of the university’s fine arts department and tickets are priced at the way-way-alongway-off-Broadway cost of $10.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
The weather is the news this week!
The Weather Report
Nick has always plugged into AccuWeather online because the site shows weather by the hour. Back East, that always seemed a waste of electrons to me because if it was cloudy and rainy at 9 am, it was likely to be cloudy and rainy (or some reasonable facsimile) at 4 pm. Sure, there was some variability, but not generally more than a drop or a cloud or two one way or another. And, of course, we moved to sunny southern New Mexico, where it’s sunny an average of 80% of the year. So why would we need to log onto AccuWeather? Well…
Nick has always plugged into AccuWeather online because the site shows weather by the hour. Back East, that always seemed a waste of electrons to me because if it was cloudy and rainy at 9 am, it was likely to be cloudy and rainy (or some reasonable facsimile) at 4 pm. Sure, there was some variability, but not generally more than a drop or a cloud or two one way or another. And, of course, we moved to sunny southern New Mexico, where it’s sunny an average of 80% of the year. So why would we need to log onto AccuWeather? Well…
- It takes the host on the local NPR affiliate about 3 minutes to go over the weather forecast for the day for the listening radius. She has 5 weather zones to cover and those zones, especially in the winter and early spring, can equate to 4 separate weather forecasts. She starts with Las Cruces, where the station sits, and moves to mid-desert with Alamagordo, to high altitude-mountains with Cloudcroft and Ruidoso, on to Silver City, with its own pattern, and back down to the low desert at Deming and Lordsburg. She may predict every weather pattern from clouds in Deming, to rain in Silver City to light snow at the mid-levels to several inches of good snow in Ruidoso, which, by the way, is the local ski destination. The temperature prediction may vary 15 degrees from low to high altitude.
- In the space of Thursday through Friday evening last week, we had every kind of wet weather that’s possible, including: rain, sleet, hail, snow, snow-mixed-with-rain, rain-mixed-with-sleet, often back-lighted by lightening bolts. About every hour, the sky would clear, the ground would start to dry and I’d think, “gotta get the dog out for her walk…”
and then it would start again. I sat at my computer and watched huge white mountains of clouds coming down from the north, alternating with gray layers of clouds dragging skirts of rain so high up the rain didn’t reach the ground. Depending upon who you talked to on Friday, or more specifically, what part of town they were in at any given point of the day, you got a different weather summary. “It hailed golf-balls here.” Or, “it snowed here for several minutes then turned to rain.” And then on Saturday, we woke up to find ourselves fogged in. Not a novelty for us Easterners, but for those who’ve been here awhile, they told us they’d NEVER seen fog in Silver.
I guess the instability of the weather was making up for the 2-week-long run of 70+ degree-days we had a couple of weeks ago. Today (Monday) it’s bright, sunny and mild again – much more fitting for the spring-blooming trees we’ve been enjoying.
The Fauna Report
The ravens are nesting in a tall cottonwood at the bottom of the hill.
They built the nest there in years past but according to the neighbors on whose property the cottonwood nursery sits, great horned owls kicked the ravens out and took over the nest for their own brood. The neighbors had hoped that the owls would return this year. At the moment, though, the ravens have re-claimed their old nursery and are busily courting. I will make a case for corvids, including crows and ravens.
- They are smart; probably the smartest of the bird species.
- They are engaging; the nesting pair are dancing an air ballet and calling in many voices.
- They are entertaining: ravens play! They play on purpose and with playful intent.
I saw, again today, a male western scrub jay feeding his "intended." I hope she chooses him. If he takes care of her when she’s on the nest the way he’s bringing treats now, she’ll do well.
And an American kestrel has been sitting around on the telephone wires and the pole outside my window. Probably the same one I’d seen zooming around the area in weeks past, but with the weather (see weather report above) I guess it’s sitting still and drying off. What a beautiful ‘face.’
A week ago – I don’t think I mentioned this before – I was sitting at the computer (Jerry, I REALLY do get work done – I’m not ALWAYS looking out the window) and had another "ohmygodwhatwasthat?" experience. A roadrunner hopped up on the flat outside my window, raced across my field of vision and disappeared around the house. Now WHERE did HE
(she?) come from? This is not a habitat that would especially attract roadrunners. I’ve seen quail in the depressions along the road in the neighborhood, but roadrunners are a flat-land-desert kind of bird. Or so I thought, before one visited my neck of the woods.
And lastly on the topic of what passes my window, this afternoon (Jerry, this was AFTER work hours, I swear!) a group of deer, probably 8, came right up to the side of the house. I guess that big cat has moved on, because the deer are moving around again in the neighborhood. I got the rear view of a youngster nibbling grass outside my window, but Nick, working at his computer in the next room, looked up and saw a doe looking in at him, literally with her nose pressed on the glass. Nutmeg took a few minutes to realize they were out there, but suddenly she got a whiff or an ear-full and went off. Now, you might think this is mean, but knowing she’d never get them, I opened the door and let her out.
She dashed to the edge of the yard only to see them sproinging off down the arroyo (except for the two babies that were curious enough to stop at the bottom of the hill and look back). Almost as quickly, she froze, trying to lift 3 paws in the air at once. In that brief dash, she got prickly burrs in 3 paws. Some fierce dog – can’t go 3 feet off the patio without getting lamed in 3 feet.
On the culture scene
We’ve been attending WILL classes (Western Institute of Lifelong Learning) and have made some new acquaintances in some classes. Including a couple named Tom and Consuelo. Tom was the instructor for a class on Tony Hillerman novels that Nick took. Both of them were in the class on Mexican movies of the 40s and 50s that we both took. We didn’t like the movies, but did enjoy talking with them. When they learned we were looking for land, they put us in touch with friends of theirs who’ve built in the same area as the land on which we made an offer.
Long story short, we met Mike and Carol and subsequently put together a dinner gathering made up of the two couples and us this last Saturday night. Mike is a retired bricklayer from Phoenix who has built several houses and is a wealth of information and knowledge. Carol is a former interior designer who was kind enough NOT to say, "Oh look, Caesar’s Palace" upon walking into the entry area of our house (others have done this and then looked as though they wanted to swallow their words).
Tom retired from Dept of Justice in DC, where he was an editor – he took early retirement because he was fed up with AG Gonzalez; his wife, Consuelo, worked for IRS. But putting DC lives behind us --
Tom got to talking about the history of Silver City. He volunteers at the Silver City Museum and is a consummate history buff and reader. Not to mention, a very good story teller. He got to telling a story, sparked by Nick’s description of a Town of Silver City housing grant to Habitat for Humanity to be located on Brewer’s Hill. It seems the Hill is named for Mrs. Brewer, who was a person of color – that area of town was the "black" area of town in a segregated past; she was known as a curanderos, a Mexican word for a healer. She specialized in abortions, but was a very conservative Christian in some regards. On the main drag and just at the bottom of the Hill on which Ms. Brewer’s place was, now called Hudson St (also Rt 90) was Miss Millie’s, which happened to be the local bordello. I don’t know about Ms. Brewer, but we’ve heard from a Silver City original resident that Miss Millie’s was still in business as late as high school, which for the source of the story would have been the 50’s or thereabouts. (I don’t know about you, but this is part is starting to sound familiar to me; I must have already related this part in some story or another.)
Anyway, according to Tom, Ms. Brewer and Miss Millie reached an agreement to co-exist. And did so successfully, to the degree that the Hill is known as Brewer’s Hill and Miss Millie’s "residence" is now the assisted living home.
Consuelo contributed home-made tortillas to dinner, both flour and corn. Oh! Oh, my! And she said that if she’d had time, she would have made "sweet" tamales, which I gather is a desert tamale. You’ve got to understand…tamales are so much work to make that usually Hispanic families only make them at the holidays. I am thinking that she put more work into those tortillas than I put into the whole dinner. And by the way, dinner was thoroughly cooked, in case you remember an earlier story of an overly rare roast beef.
To close, I’ve found there’s another use for agaves in addition to scratching unwary stumblers. I found, in the hippie store in town, Blue Agave Sweetener, which tastes like very light, delicate honey, but is supposed to be better for us diabetics. I’ll let you know. ss
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Addendum to cats, casts and cactus
Sometimes I show Nicky my stories before I hit “send” and sometimes I hand him a printed copy after the fact. This last was after the fact. And after he read it, he exclaimed that no one would ever want to come and visit on that basis of the themes of that story. Mountain lions in the neighborhood, broken bones, Cast Days and thorny agave boo-boos. I feel like I should add a resounding, “…Oh My” to the litany – familiar to any fan of the Tin Man, the Straw Man, and Dorothy on their way to see the Wiz.
So I’ll add two fun facts about Silver City and a funny.
How is Silver City like Washington DC?
So I’ll add two fun facts about Silver City and a funny.
How is Silver City like Washington DC?
- It has just about every spring-blooming ornamental tree that you see in DC, all of which have come into glorious bloom. I mentioned this before, but didn’t realize just how many familiar varieties of blooming trees there are here. Nick and I are busily pointing out the best to each other, just as we often did driving around home.
- It has a street named for every state in the Union, just like DC. Although many of Silver’s streets are much shorter and far less grand. One state-named street we found yesterday only had 3 houses and 4 pickups.
And here’s why no one needs a 2700 square foot house. Especially coming from a house of a size that you always knew where the other one was. A couple of nights ago, about bedtime, I was finishing up reading the newspaper in the kitchen, while Nicky had already gone into the bedroom, Nutmeg following along. I took the paper and some other recyclables into the garage, turning on the light from the house-side of the door, and letting the door close behind me. I dropped the recyclables into their proper boxes, and turned back to the door to go into the house, only to find – you might have seen where this was going – the door was locked! I knocked – Nutmeg barked a time or two. I knocked harder and Nutmeg barked a little more. But no Ses-a-me opened the door. I knocked, graduated to pounding, then on to kicking the door! Nutmeg did her best to help by coming to the other side of the door and barking furiously. Finally, I heard this faint voice with a huge question mark ”…Sonnie???” Nicky didn’t know I had stepped into the garage and he went around checking doors before going in to bed for good. What impeccable timing that he came to lock the door just as it had closed completely, and turned the lock in the 30 seconds I was inside before I turned back to the door knob. He thought my knocking was coming from the kitchen. God knows why he thought Nutmeg was barking so, but that’s what finally got his attention. Not before I started thinking about how uncomfortable I’d be spending the night in the garage.
So is this better? Not so worrisome? Maybe you’ll come now, if all you have to do is worry about getting locked in the garage. At least there, you’ll be safe from mountain lions. Meow….
Saturday, March 7, 2009
"...seen that big cat?"
…seems to be the question of the moment from anyone who lives on the north side of Silver City or anyone who talks to anyone who lives on the north side of Silver City. The big cat of interest is a large male mountain lion! So really a “BIG” cat, not just a big tomcat.
It seems that a male mountain lion going about 250 lbs and some years of age has come down out of the forest into the suburbs of Silver. We were first alerted to his presence in our general neighborhood by our property manager, who also lives up on this side and about 2-3 miles closer to the edge of the forest. She and another agent were talking about this animal making a meal of a small goat out where she is. She was telling us that her neighbor? …husband? …I didn’t get a fix on the relationship but some guy she knows well got home from work and got out of the car… and froze. There was the mountain lion on his (their?) property; it stopped its progress and turned to look at him. And it just stood and looked at him for a couple of minutes, before turning and continuing on its way. That behavior made the officials to whom he reported the sighting more nervous than just the sighting itself. These animals are generally wary and cautious around humans, despite their reputation as the only large predator that will purposefully and with intent, stalk and attack humans. That this animal didn’t hurry off, sidle away or in any way behave with caution alerted the animal-control folks that something was wrong. No one knew whether this sighting was pre- or post-prandial, that is pre-goat or post-goat – but the goat was taken on the same day. Updates in the story-mill have this lion as older and suffering from some serious infection or other problem on a front paw, which explains why the animal has come to the suburbs where the hunting is easier; goats, after all, being much easier to catch for dinner than quicker wild prey.
Animal-control folks are apparently hunting the animal, but I haven’t seen anything in the local paper that would reassure the neighborhood that it’s safe to let the cat out at night – and would be housecats, of course.
Meantime, I’ve noticed that my imagination is creating sightings of the mountain lion every time I step out with Nutmeg: yesterday, it was a cat that I saw cross the street at a distance, and I wondered what kind of cat it was. This morning, I saw the buff-colored back end of something big moving quietly through the arroyo beside our house and hurried to the window to see what it was. It was the back end of a deer moving into the bushes, which then reminded me that the deer seem to have become scarce of late. I wonder what story-mill they listen to, that lets them know to herd up and stay out of sight.
Our friend Skee fell and broke her wrist or lower arm a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday I believe it was. She went to the emergency room of the medical center/hospital located here in Silver City. They put a temporary cast on the arm, and told her she’d have to wait until Wednesday because that was "Cast Day." I capitalize Cast Day because that, as the story was related to us, was how the ER personnel referred to the day of the week that regular hard casts were applied to broken bones.
Hmmm…Skee and we wondered what would happen to someone who had multiple compound breaks or whatever that might be much more serious than her broken wrist. Does everyone, or I should say, every break have to wait for Cast Day on Wednesday? Sure enough, the following Wednesday, she went in and was "cast"ed. To put Cast Day in proper perspective, the Gila Regional Medical Center is, as the name implies, the regional hospital serving this county and some large parts of neighboring counties and communities. To get to something larger, you’d need to go to Las Cruces, Tucson or El Paso. Maybe there just aren’t that many broken bones here? Or maybe people are just tougher out west?
Who knows, but if I’m ever to fall and suffer an injury that requires a cast, let it, please Lord, be on a Tuesday night.
And as long as I’m on the subject of "boo-boos," last Sunday when we were tromping around that piece of land, I stumbled twice onto the same agave cactus (how I managed that isn’t worth repeating). Each time I felt a scratch on my leg (same leg both times). If you’ve never gotten up close and personal, as they used to say in sports reporting, with an agave, they have long, strong and very pointy spines or needles in rows along the edges of the leaves. So I checked my leg to see whether the spine had broken off and was stuck in my skin or my jeans leg. When I didn’t find an embedded spine and only saw a minor-looking scratch I didn’t worry about it – until a day or so later, when I found angry red and very sore scratches, one on either side of my leg just above my ankle. These will take awhile to heal and are yet another good reminder of watching where you’re walking around here. The closest anyone should want to get to an agave is a glass of tequila.
Hope Spring is warming your bones and making you lean into the sun! ss
It seems that a male mountain lion going about 250 lbs and some years of age has come down out of the forest into the suburbs of Silver. We were first alerted to his presence in our general neighborhood by our property manager, who also lives up on this side and about 2-3 miles closer to the edge of the forest. She and another agent were talking about this animal making a meal of a small goat out where she is. She was telling us that her neighbor? …husband? …I didn’t get a fix on the relationship but some guy she knows well got home from work and got out of the car… and froze. There was the mountain lion on his (their?) property; it stopped its progress and turned to look at him. And it just stood and looked at him for a couple of minutes, before turning and continuing on its way. That behavior made the officials to whom he reported the sighting more nervous than just the sighting itself. These animals are generally wary and cautious around humans, despite their reputation as the only large predator that will purposefully and with intent, stalk and attack humans. That this animal didn’t hurry off, sidle away or in any way behave with caution alerted the animal-control folks that something was wrong. No one knew whether this sighting was pre- or post-prandial, that is pre-goat or post-goat – but the goat was taken on the same day. Updates in the story-mill have this lion as older and suffering from some serious infection or other problem on a front paw, which explains why the animal has come to the suburbs where the hunting is easier; goats, after all, being much easier to catch for dinner than quicker wild prey.
Animal-control folks are apparently hunting the animal, but I haven’t seen anything in the local paper that would reassure the neighborhood that it’s safe to let the cat out at night – and would be housecats, of course.
Meantime, I’ve noticed that my imagination is creating sightings of the mountain lion every time I step out with Nutmeg: yesterday, it was a cat that I saw cross the street at a distance, and I wondered what kind of cat it was. This morning, I saw the buff-colored back end of something big moving quietly through the arroyo beside our house and hurried to the window to see what it was. It was the back end of a deer moving into the bushes, which then reminded me that the deer seem to have become scarce of late. I wonder what story-mill they listen to, that lets them know to herd up and stay out of sight.
Our friend Skee fell and broke her wrist or lower arm a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday I believe it was. She went to the emergency room of the medical center/hospital located here in Silver City. They put a temporary cast on the arm, and told her she’d have to wait until Wednesday because that was "Cast Day." I capitalize Cast Day because that, as the story was related to us, was how the ER personnel referred to the day of the week that regular hard casts were applied to broken bones.
Hmmm…Skee and we wondered what would happen to someone who had multiple compound breaks or whatever that might be much more serious than her broken wrist. Does everyone, or I should say, every break have to wait for Cast Day on Wednesday? Sure enough, the following Wednesday, she went in and was "cast"ed. To put Cast Day in proper perspective, the Gila Regional Medical Center is, as the name implies, the regional hospital serving this county and some large parts of neighboring counties and communities. To get to something larger, you’d need to go to Las Cruces, Tucson or El Paso. Maybe there just aren’t that many broken bones here? Or maybe people are just tougher out west?
Who knows, but if I’m ever to fall and suffer an injury that requires a cast, let it, please Lord, be on a Tuesday night.
And as long as I’m on the subject of "boo-boos," last Sunday when we were tromping around that piece of land, I stumbled twice onto the same agave cactus (how I managed that isn’t worth repeating). Each time I felt a scratch on my leg (same leg both times). If you’ve never gotten up close and personal, as they used to say in sports reporting, with an agave, they have long, strong and very pointy spines or needles in rows along the edges of the leaves. So I checked my leg to see whether the spine had broken off and was stuck in my skin or my jeans leg. When I didn’t find an embedded spine and only saw a minor-looking scratch I didn’t worry about it – until a day or so later, when I found angry red and very sore scratches, one on either side of my leg just above my ankle. These will take awhile to heal and are yet another good reminder of watching where you’re walking around here. The closest anyone should want to get to an agave is a glass of tequila.
Hope Spring is warming your bones and making you lean into the sun! ss
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Spring has definitely sprung!
March 1 is Sussillo Spring! Back in Maryland, Nick had a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder, what with the cold, early dusk and gray days of winter. So in an effort to hurry the season along, he declared March 1 the first of Spring. The weather and the light didn’t always cooperate there, but here – no doubt – Spring is springing.
Trees are definitely greening up, helped along, I’m sure, by the 65 degree weather pattern bathing the Gila. We have seen, in the last two or three days, ornamental fruit trees like cherry and Bradford pear coming into bright, pink, East-coast bloom. I don’t think these are native stock! It’s said that we have had a very mild winter, and a dry one. The rains that should have come in November, December and January, didn’t. We did have, I think, 3 snows but I gather there should have been much more. March and April are typically windy months, and we have had a couple of very breezy days. But by and large it’s been mild and soft. Hard to stay indoors to do things like clean house… We won’t have rain now, I guess, until July when the summer monsoons start. Until then, the bushes, brush and trees along the unpaved roads, of which there are many, will be white from dust and unexpected guests won’t be able to sneak up on unprepared hosts who live on those unpaved roads, because of the plumes of dust that raise and linger at the passing of a car going faster than 10 mph.
We made an offer on one of the lots we have been considering – the 5 acre piece of land outside of town about 4 miles – the one with the terrific long views. The owner had the piece way overpriced, even considering a premium for the views. We made him an offer we felt was at the low end of fair, and we attached contingencies that would, for one thing, allow us to have the property witched for water and potentially dig a well at our expense as part of the contingency. Witched for water? Yep, you read correctly! For those on city water, the idea of even worrying about water is foreign – you turn on the tap and there it is. Doesn’t always smell good, and isn’t always tasty, but it always runs. For those in the East on a well, I’m not sure how anyone decides where to drill; we had a good well on our place in Clarksburg, but have no idea how it was located. Out west, however, water witchers make a good living! You wouldn’t think of buying a piece of land without having it witched. How else would the well driller know where to drill? And woe betide the driller, let alone the land owner, who didn’t listen to the witcher’s advice who says to drill right…THERE! If you’re curious about witchers and their history, here are two websites, one of which by a non-believer: http://skepdic.com/dowsing.html http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dowsing
Anyway, we wanted to make sure there’s water there, since the property is on a hillside well above (no pun intended) the valley floor. We also didn’t want to spend $20,000 on a well, which is possible if a well had to be dug 1000-1200 feet deep at $17/foot. And one lender Nick consulted recommended we get permission to not only have the property witched, but depending upon the recommendation of the witcher, we invest in drilling to some depth that we’re comfortable paying for, on the possibility of coming up with a dry hole. So we decided on spending up to $7500 to drill on top of getting two opinions from witchers. Our other contingencies had to do with getting a perk test to make sure we could be a typical-for-the-area septic system – we didn’t want to spend $25,000 like we did on the system at our house on Comus Rd – also getting an environmental assessment to make sure there was nothing toxic dumped on the property, plus the typical financing contingencies.
He rejected them all out of hand, and countered our price much higher (by $20,000). He claimed that if we had the property witched and drilled, and came up dry it would put a taint on the property making it hard to sell. Well, no shit, Sherlock! He also said the perk test/septic system contingency wasn’t specific enough. Nick and I went round and round that night on whether to counter and what to counter, with each of us vacillating on just walking away. We finally decided to meet his price if HE would drill a well and deliver water as a contingency. We figured he might think that drilling his own well would remove any likelihood of “taint” and we were, in effect, paying for the drilling at a $20,000 increase over what we initially offered. But it would be worth it, because HE would have the hassle of getting the water to the surface – if indeed there is water to be gotten. We researched and refined our perk test/septic system contingency to where we thought it should not present a problem, and we stuck by the other contingencies. All of the contingencies other than water were at our expense. He still rejected everything except the price. He didn’t even agree to the contingency allowing us to get financing. Unbelievable. Anyway, for someone who we were told was ready to “move on” and had already purchased a home back in Philadelphia, he sure didn’t want to negotiate. He must think that, in this market, someone is going to come along and pay him cash first and find water later.
We looked at a piece of land today that we looked at last January when we visited here. It wasn’t on the market then, and if it had been, it would have been too pricey. Now, though, the owner is thinking of selling it, and at an affordable price. I don’t know, though. It’s raw land and we’d have to start from scratch with many of the same contingencies – water, perk test, etc.
We also found, when we walked the property today, a rock with a mining claim etched on it, dating back who knows how long. Pinos Altos was founded on gold and silver mines in the mid-1860s and old mine holes and shafts and untapped mining rights exist all over the place. Another interesting thing about New Mexico in general and applicable here in particular: you never get the mineral rights to property when you buy it. Those rights already belong to someone else or perhaps, to the state. It is rare, but not unknown for some mining company or individual who wants to sell rights to a mining company to come and resurrect their mining claim in your front yard. So, if we decide we’re interested, we have some research to do. Who owns the mining rights and how old are those rights? Course, if we could find gold, we could pay for TWO wells!
We’re off to the Buff this Saturday for a bluzzy jazzy country singer named Corrine West. She was supposed to perform at the Pinos Altos Opera House – don’t get too impressed – the stage is tiny and backed by a larger-than-lifesize painting of 4 nude women. The décor was primo in the old days when the patrons wore spurs on their boots. The Opera House is attached to the Buckhorn Saloon and both closed the end of February for renovations. I sure hope that when they open, the renovations will not be obvious enough to spoil the ambiance. If the owners are smart they will carefully take down every smoke-stained board and beam and reinstall same on top of the 21st century infrastructure. The saloon has a walk-in fireplace on one end, a potbellied stove on the other and a century old (or more) bar the length of the room, all of which should be preserved. The Opera House has museum cases around the walls enclosing thousand-year-old mimbres pottery, old photos of Geronimo, Victorio, Nana and the other Apache warriors who operated in the area, along with Judge Roy Bean and the old 49ers who started the town. This is what you go to Pinos Altos for. Not for a yuppie fern-bar. PLEASE don’t let them decide to “modernize” the Buckhorn and Opera House.
Some of you who know ‘training stuff’ commented on my last story about driving 100+ miles, one way, for lunch only to find that the restaurant was closed for renovation – the similarity to an old training story called “The Road to Abilene” was hard to miss. In that story, Jerry, his wife and her parents piled into their unairconditioned car and drove 100 miles to Abilene for ice cream because no one could admit they didn’t really want to go. However, here’s the differences: (1) it wasn’t 100 degrees outside, like in Jerry’s story; (2) we had air conditioning, which we used so we could hear each other talking; (3) the scenery was gorgeous (did I mention that in my first story?); and (4) Abilene is in the opposite direction!!! In retrospect, though, we might have all voted to stop at Alma for chicken-fried steak on the first lap if we’d known the café at Reserve was closed and we wouldn’t be eating until almost 2 pm.
I found a roll of artist’s tin at one of the art stores in town. So I’m ready to get out my dad’s leather-work tools and start my new art career! Perfect for a rainy day project… ss
Trees are definitely greening up, helped along, I’m sure, by the 65 degree weather pattern bathing the Gila. We have seen, in the last two or three days, ornamental fruit trees like cherry and Bradford pear coming into bright, pink, East-coast bloom. I don’t think these are native stock! It’s said that we have had a very mild winter, and a dry one. The rains that should have come in November, December and January, didn’t. We did have, I think, 3 snows but I gather there should have been much more. March and April are typically windy months, and we have had a couple of very breezy days. But by and large it’s been mild and soft. Hard to stay indoors to do things like clean house… We won’t have rain now, I guess, until July when the summer monsoons start. Until then, the bushes, brush and trees along the unpaved roads, of which there are many, will be white from dust and unexpected guests won’t be able to sneak up on unprepared hosts who live on those unpaved roads, because of the plumes of dust that raise and linger at the passing of a car going faster than 10 mph.
We made an offer on one of the lots we have been considering – the 5 acre piece of land outside of town about 4 miles – the one with the terrific long views. The owner had the piece way overpriced, even considering a premium for the views. We made him an offer we felt was at the low end of fair, and we attached contingencies that would, for one thing, allow us to have the property witched for water and potentially dig a well at our expense as part of the contingency. Witched for water? Yep, you read correctly! For those on city water, the idea of even worrying about water is foreign – you turn on the tap and there it is. Doesn’t always smell good, and isn’t always tasty, but it always runs. For those in the East on a well, I’m not sure how anyone decides where to drill; we had a good well on our place in Clarksburg, but have no idea how it was located. Out west, however, water witchers make a good living! You wouldn’t think of buying a piece of land without having it witched. How else would the well driller know where to drill? And woe betide the driller, let alone the land owner, who didn’t listen to the witcher’s advice who says to drill right…THERE! If you’re curious about witchers and their history, here are two websites, one of which by a non-believer: http://skepdic.com/dowsing.html http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dowsing
Anyway, we wanted to make sure there’s water there, since the property is on a hillside well above (no pun intended) the valley floor. We also didn’t want to spend $20,000 on a well, which is possible if a well had to be dug 1000-1200 feet deep at $17/foot. And one lender Nick consulted recommended we get permission to not only have the property witched, but depending upon the recommendation of the witcher, we invest in drilling to some depth that we’re comfortable paying for, on the possibility of coming up with a dry hole. So we decided on spending up to $7500 to drill on top of getting two opinions from witchers. Our other contingencies had to do with getting a perk test to make sure we could be a typical-for-the-area septic system – we didn’t want to spend $25,000 like we did on the system at our house on Comus Rd – also getting an environmental assessment to make sure there was nothing toxic dumped on the property, plus the typical financing contingencies.
He rejected them all out of hand, and countered our price much higher (by $20,000). He claimed that if we had the property witched and drilled, and came up dry it would put a taint on the property making it hard to sell. Well, no shit, Sherlock! He also said the perk test/septic system contingency wasn’t specific enough. Nick and I went round and round that night on whether to counter and what to counter, with each of us vacillating on just walking away. We finally decided to meet his price if HE would drill a well and deliver water as a contingency. We figured he might think that drilling his own well would remove any likelihood of “taint” and we were, in effect, paying for the drilling at a $20,000 increase over what we initially offered. But it would be worth it, because HE would have the hassle of getting the water to the surface – if indeed there is water to be gotten. We researched and refined our perk test/septic system contingency to where we thought it should not present a problem, and we stuck by the other contingencies. All of the contingencies other than water were at our expense. He still rejected everything except the price. He didn’t even agree to the contingency allowing us to get financing. Unbelievable. Anyway, for someone who we were told was ready to “move on” and had already purchased a home back in Philadelphia, he sure didn’t want to negotiate. He must think that, in this market, someone is going to come along and pay him cash first and find water later.
We looked at a piece of land today that we looked at last January when we visited here. It wasn’t on the market then, and if it had been, it would have been too pricey. Now, though, the owner is thinking of selling it, and at an affordable price. I don’t know, though. It’s raw land and we’d have to start from scratch with many of the same contingencies – water, perk test, etc.
We also found, when we walked the property today, a rock with a mining claim etched on it, dating back who knows how long. Pinos Altos was founded on gold and silver mines in the mid-1860s and old mine holes and shafts and untapped mining rights exist all over the place. Another interesting thing about New Mexico in general and applicable here in particular: you never get the mineral rights to property when you buy it. Those rights already belong to someone else or perhaps, to the state. It is rare, but not unknown for some mining company or individual who wants to sell rights to a mining company to come and resurrect their mining claim in your front yard. So, if we decide we’re interested, we have some research to do. Who owns the mining rights and how old are those rights? Course, if we could find gold, we could pay for TWO wells!
We’re off to the Buff this Saturday for a bluzzy jazzy country singer named Corrine West. She was supposed to perform at the Pinos Altos Opera House – don’t get too impressed – the stage is tiny and backed by a larger-than-lifesize painting of 4 nude women. The décor was primo in the old days when the patrons wore spurs on their boots. The Opera House is attached to the Buckhorn Saloon and both closed the end of February for renovations. I sure hope that when they open, the renovations will not be obvious enough to spoil the ambiance. If the owners are smart they will carefully take down every smoke-stained board and beam and reinstall same on top of the 21st century infrastructure. The saloon has a walk-in fireplace on one end, a potbellied stove on the other and a century old (or more) bar the length of the room, all of which should be preserved. The Opera House has museum cases around the walls enclosing thousand-year-old mimbres pottery, old photos of Geronimo, Victorio, Nana and the other Apache warriors who operated in the area, along with Judge Roy Bean and the old 49ers who started the town. This is what you go to Pinos Altos for. Not for a yuppie fern-bar. PLEASE don’t let them decide to “modernize” the Buckhorn and Opera House.
Some of you who know ‘training stuff’ commented on my last story about driving 100+ miles, one way, for lunch only to find that the restaurant was closed for renovation – the similarity to an old training story called “The Road to Abilene” was hard to miss. In that story, Jerry, his wife and her parents piled into their unairconditioned car and drove 100 miles to Abilene for ice cream because no one could admit they didn’t really want to go. However, here’s the differences: (1) it wasn’t 100 degrees outside, like in Jerry’s story; (2) we had air conditioning, which we used so we could hear each other talking; (3) the scenery was gorgeous (did I mention that in my first story?); and (4) Abilene is in the opposite direction!!! In retrospect, though, we might have all voted to stop at Alma for chicken-fried steak on the first lap if we’d known the café at Reserve was closed and we wouldn’t be eating until almost 2 pm.
I found a roll of artist’s tin at one of the art stores in town. So I’m ready to get out my dad’s leather-work tools and start my new art career! Perfect for a rainy day project… ss
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