🌵2025 West to Angel Fire, NM. Headed South then Home

Wildflowers, River Rafting & The Road to Dance

This morning began quietly—coffee, birdsong, and a bit of solitude while catching up on some grant reporting and a few other things I'd been putting off all summer. Alice and the girls had gotten up early to go river rafting so I had some time to myself. From my window,I watched the wildlife stir around me, and took in the wildflowers blooming with late-summer pride. There were clusters of yellow and lavender blossoms, speckled with white daisies, and large pink thistly puffballs painting my view. It took a lot of resistance not to go identify them all.

Mandy, her parents, Carol and Marjorie, and I eventually set out to meet the rest of the crew—the river rafters from Taos—but found ourselves a little ahead of schedule. So, we made a quick stop at the maker’s market in Angel Fire. Marjorie found some beautiful watercolors and a bundle of fresh vegetables, while I picked up a bag of extra-hot red chili peanut butter brittle—something I’m now determined to recreate at home using my own peppers.

As we continued the drive to Taos, a herd of over 100 elk appeared to our left.

In Taos, still ahead of the group, we explored a flea market. That’s where it happened: I found the fetish earrings I’d imagined but wasn’t sure existed. They were just… there. Waiting. And then I spotted a bracelet that if in knew it was a thing, I would have wanted it too. It stacked perfectly with my other Native American pieces. I also could not resist this great mug. Guess Lloyd and Cheryl didn't make it. I think I've found my new collection.

We reunited with the rafters over a great meal and our tradition of drawing “adventure cards” to guide our day. This time, the cards brought Marjorie and Carol Greene into the fold. We each spent the afternoon exploring Taos in our own way.

I’d done enough shopping, so I headed to the Harwood Museum of Art on a tip from a friend who sent me an article about a notorious art heist there. My curiosity was further sparked by a write-up in Taos Magazine found at lunch, and I couldn’t resist. The museum—quiet and reverent—holds pieces by some of the Southwest’s most iconic artists, but it was the story behind the missing (and now returned) works that captured me.

Several rare early 20th-century pieces, taken under mysterious circumstances, had been gone for years. They surfaced unexpectedly and were recently recovered after a tip from a private collector. Seeing them restored to their rightful place, framed and illuminated, made the museum feel like a living story—one that’s still unfolding. The heist wasn’t just about theft; it was about heritage, loss, and the way art carries the soul of a place.

We took a different way back to visit the town of Red River where Mandy spent many summers and ski seasons. We all had fun at the candy store.

That evening, we gathered at the Greene’s mountain house for dinner. Mandy and I created a wildflower centerpiece from blooms we’d picked and identified together—a quiet, beautiful end to the day.

The next morning, as we walked outside to pack the car, we noticed muddy little bear prints all around the garage. We had noticed something on the security cameras and this confirmed our suspicions.

We hit the road early for a 13-hour drive to Garner State Park, trying to make it to the evening dance by 7. We followed the Santa Fe Trail through Mora, passing historic mills, adobe homes, alpaca farms, and forests. In Las Vegas, New Mexico, we read about Doc Holliday and Billy the Kid, then checked off another travel wish at the Billy the Kid Museum in Fort Sumner, where he was killed in 1881.

Along Route 66, we watched coyotes cross golden fields and returned to our daily devotion: “Trust God as the author of your story, not yourself.” A timely reminder.

We finally arrived at our cozy cabin, just five minutes from the entrance of Garner.

The girls wasted no time—freshened up, threw on their cowgirl outfits, and headed out, boots clicking, smiles wide, on the hunt for dance partners and new memories. The moment their boots hit the dance floor, it was like muscle memory kicked in. They felt right at home—they’ve grown up on this dance floor, and the jukebox played Texas swing tunes, just the soundtrack they needed to light up.

They stayed until the lights dimmed and the last song played, much to many boys delight. Meanwhile, I stayed back at the cabin—our sweet little home tucked just off the road—and enjoyed a quiet evening of reading and rest. It was just what I needed after the long drive and full day.

The next morning, we slept in a bit and started the day slow, Alice and I sipping coffee on the porch. Alice and I got excited planning our day around all of the things we've entertained ourselves with in these hills for over 40 years. We shared our "very exciting" plans for the day: hunting for epiphytes, finding fossils, locating a geocache, and harvesting prickly pears to make margaritas and jam. We were so excited! The girls? Not so much. The moment we finished our rundown, they exchanged a look that said everything. It was clear that none of our plans were in their plans. They wanted to head back to the river and spend the day lounging with the new friends they’d made. We were pretty sure we weren’t invited—though, to their credit, neither of them said it out loud.

So we dropped them off at the Garner State Park swimming hole and set off to chase our own kind of adventure. And what a success it was! We checked off every goal, logged a geocache, found a fossil bed, collected epiphytes, and harvested prickly pears for margaritas and jam. We even found a fantastic little deli in Utopia, Texas—a town that more than lived up to its name. As I write, I am feeling tiny, painful pricklies all in my fingers.

Later that afternoon, we swung back by to pick up the girls, and Olivia was suddenly on a mission: she needed a pair of cutoff shorts. We found a delightfully chaotic little junk shop, and with a pair of scissors and some creativity, Alice whipped up a stylish number that was sure to catch every cowboy’s eye.

The girls looked adorable and were happy to squeeze in one more night of two-stepping before our 12-hour drive home the next day.

Stopping in Castroville at the bakery we love