The Land of Enchantment and Open Skies, New Mexico: draft, Nature’s Secrets

From my experiences thus far, I feel that in all the Southwestern USA, there is no greater gem than the state of New Mexico. 🦇🤠

I'd love to visit there again sometime and experience Taos, Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, the White Sands Desert (and stay overnight for the skies, the views of the white sands & the stars, and maybe some astrophotography)

I went on a solo adventure to New Mexico for about a week in 2009, and it was breathtaking and certainly a land of exploration for the super curious!!

I flew into Albuquerque one night, and rented a car first thing in the morning and drove South. I think that I took this picture along that drive. It was the first time in a long time that I'd been able to soar down an empty stretch of road, and I've never seen skies that looked this way, or that went on forever; they really do.

I remember driving with the window rolled down and with my eyes mostly on the road; by feel of hand, I took a picture of the landscape passing before my eyes and periphery as the car & I sped down the road.

I decided to stay in Roswell and explore the town's museum & research center. 📓📰📝One of the days I drove to Carlsbad to explore the Caverns. At dusk hundreds of Mexican free-tailed bats are known to fly above them! 🦇🦇🦇 And there are other wild animals who inhabit the area!! I was there on quite a rainy day, so I didn't get to see the bats, but the Caverns were incredibly beautiful.

And on the drive back to Roswell later that day, I found a pleasant surprise!! The rain had let up a bit and I realized that I was driving through what seemed to be a ghost town of the old Wild West. 🌵👻

I had to stop the car of course! I parked it somewhere and hopped out, and started walking around. There were a number of store fronts on each side of the street, and I was entranced by this bizarre one-horse town! I went over to one of the shops and looked in by the window. It was kind of dark and no one was in there. I walked down the block and found one of those fortune teller machines outside what might have once been a shop or pizza place of some sort. It was such a curious sight, and a bit creepy in the atmosphere of this place, which turned out to be a zero-horse town.

I noticed a lot of dust had collected over time on the fortune teller machine and on the hand that pops out of it! Quite possibly desert dust. I got some weird vibes, and turned around and noticed a diner or restaurant of some sort across the street. I started crossing over, and that's when I realized there weren't any lights on inside this establishment. It was early evening, and the sun was still shining some through the clouds, so it was possible that's why it wasn't brightly lit. I was about to try the door to the restaurant, when I realized it looked closed; which is when I saw the lone man inside this dimly lit diner, staring out at me from behind the door.

And that's when I crossed the street, took a last glance at the shops, and saw a Native American hand-woven dream catcher in one of the shoppe windows. I found my car parked nearby, and drove back to my hotel in Roswell. Along the way, the rain started pouring again, and the skies that night in Roswell (after supper) were a sight to behold with a dark grey cloud formation like a twister! It was like nothing I've ever seen before or since!!

TO BE CONTINUED . .

© Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography
🍃Nature's Secrets🍃

note to self: rough draft, see if I can find more New Mexico pics from 2009- sky, road, Carlsbad caverns, ghost town, Roswell, dark grey twister clouds after I finished supper at the restaurant near my hotel in Roswell.

Add some more detail about the town of Roswell and their research center; and about the beauty inside the carlsbad caverns; maybe make mention of passing signs on the road for the White Sands Desert, and learning more about it and its history, with reference to the trinity site, 1945. 😱

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Her Seashell (monochrome) 

She sat there holding a seashell, a woven basket above her head, her hair flowing, one of the tresses tickling that little spot behind her ear,

Her eyelids gently closed, she sits alone, in quiet contemplation, journeying through the Universe that’s inside of her, solitude echoing off the walls around; 

Each day, she would sit under the ancient oak in the meadow, listening to her seashell; sometimes she could hear the wind gently roaring from the ocean,

Leaves drifted down, and little bits of fruit began to fall into her basket, and as the days passed by, she noticed that both her spirit and the basket were fuller, sometimes to the brim; 

At sunrise, and on nights when the moon was shining, she would bathe in its light; and such was this blessed feeling, she wanted to share these gifts with the world- making it a little more beautiful, nourishing the spirit, adding a touch of magic to the surroundings; 

And she longed to share this life’s journey with her true love, once a girl, now a woman . . she has held her heart all along, keeping it safe and tucked away next to the bed of flowers, which she walks amongst each evening, on the way to the great oak; 

To all around her, she appeared as if she was frozen in the stones of time, though there was a river steadily flowing forth from her, hence the peaceful little smile that often graced her lips. 

Lady with a Seashell, monochrome, Bellagio Gardens, Summer 2017 © Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography


draft for 🍃Nature’s Secrets🍃

English Faerie Folk

Walking amongst the ancient trees,

faeries in the mi(d)st,

looming unseen . .

 

The scent of Hawthorn and Elder,

I stumble through the brush,

twigs crackling under my feet with each step,

I inhale deeply, this forest,

it grows inside of me

 

Can you feel me here amongst these old souls? 

She whispers . .

fluttering about the treetops,

the music of her voice dancing in my ears with delight

img_1482

While exploring the forests of England . . 

The Mercurial Light bulb

An anecdote from my new blog, The Antidote: zeanecdote.wordpress.com

Truth be told, most of my dreams are too convoluted to hope to write about in a cohesive fashion. But not this one from the other night! I call it, “The Mercurial Light Bulb.”

The dream was as follows . .

I was back in my old neighborhood in South Brooklyn, where I grew up. I was with my childhood friends Paul and Lee. We were sitting in the grass by building one. For whatever reason, Paul had dragged along with him a suitcase on wheels, which was sitting at the far end of the grass. In its little zippered compartment, something was wiggling ferociously to get out.

We had no idea what it could be, and just as we were musing it over, whatever it was broke free of the material and launched 200 meters into the sky. We watched the whole thing, and up, up, up and away it went! I thought to myself, “Holy smokes, what if it hits somebody?” But then figured those chances were unlikely.

Next thing you know, it plunked my friend Lee right on top of his head, bullseye. The thing that hit him, this suitcase monster, turned out to be an iridescent light bulb.  As it bounced on his noggin, it emitted an intense electromagnetic pulse, reverberating through the ground and air, all around us. The iridescence of the light was dazzling. Lee, uninjured but puzzled, rubbed his head, as the light bulb scurried away, bouncing through the grass.

There was a black star chart posted in the grass, illuminated with the twinkly lights of the Universe. I noticed that since this incident occurred, the distance between the orbits of Earth and the planet Mercury had shortened considerably. In fact, the difference was astronomical! Thanks to the suitcase monster, we were now hella close to Mercury, and probably fairly screwed when it went into retrograde!

The End?

Anyhow, a few hours after waking up from this dream I realized how funny the dream connection was between the dangerous light bulb and the planet Mercury, since in “the real world” many light bulbs actually do contain mercury, the heavy metal kind.

Also, I’ve been working on my photography series, Electric Skies (merging characters and storytelling with the photographs), and I could see this dream had a theme of electric skies. Dreams imitating art, imitating life . .

Turnkey

Turnkey, turnkey,

Spiral cogs in the lock

The purveyor’s shop of antiquities

Dusty shelves,

Lights dim,

The wooden clock goes,

Tick tock.

 

Trolls of Nordic lineage

Parade behind the counter,

Frozen in time,

Their little faces possess secrets

Worth far more than any coin once tendered at the shop register, the old relic.

 

That noise..

It grows louder,

Haunting,

A row of Bisque dolls animate a wink down the line,

In their lace dresses,

Movements synchronous,

As the clock strikes three.

 

The shopkeeper rises in the backroom,

Among boxes filled with one man’s junk,

Another man’s treasure

The noise beckons..

Fumbling through the boxes,

Searching for its source, the sublime

 

At last he finds it among the knickknacks and tchotchkes,

A vintage music box,

Vienna,

The 1920’s,

Another time, another place.

 

He dusts it off, gently

With a fine linen cloth

Ornate, opulent,

Golden-leaf to trim the most intricate detail

 

The rattling noise screeches,

An unbearable cacophony

Reaching into his breast pocket,

He finds the answer.

The turnkey twists inside the familiar music box,

As it opens, the horrendous sound is muted, at last.

 

In its place rises the symphony of angels,

Two porcelain dancers on the platform stage,

The gentleman in fine waistcoat,

One hand caressing the small of the noble woman’s back,

The other entwined with her delicate fingers, painted with apricot lacquer.

 

Into the night, the lovers keep in step to the Baroque tune,

And the old shopkeeper, he remembers,

(tears glistening his pale cheek)

This music box,

An anniversary gift,

To his wife, in 1927

They had celebrated 50 years together,

That Winter’s day.

 

A treasure trove of memories,

The music box a mere memento

Of a life well-lived.

Two hearts, two souls,

Beating in harmony

Nurturing a family with love, wisdom, and uplifting grace.

Children, now grown, with children of their own.

 

Her face lit up with wonder and delight,

At the sight of this Viennese music box.

“A little something to remember us by, always, 

As long as we each keep the turnkey by our heart.” 

 

She passed away,

Nearly seven years later,

By the foot of the bed,

With the music box playing on the dresser,

Its enchanting melody.

 

The shopkeeper was sobbing now,

He cradled his love one last time,

Before placing the keepsake back in its box,

Where it will rest until the old wooden clock in the shop strikes three the next day.

 

Drifting past a bronze mirror in the storage room,

He noticed that it reflected only the shelves behind him.

For 87 years had past hence,

He was no longer there,

Only his spectre remained in the once bustling antiquities shop,

Rising each day at the bewitching hour,

When, somewhere in the Universe,

They embrace,

Both holding the turnkey close to their hearts,

Their love transcending all of time and space,

They dance, a Waltz eternal.

A key adorns the wall at the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, on the Summer Solstice, 2014. Photo By: Lisa Ellen Goodman
A key adorns the wall at the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, on the Summer Solstice, 2014. Photo By: Lisa Ellen Goodman

 

Nameless River (Short Story: Part I)

Once stood a river without a name

It ran wild

In certain parts the current was strong and flung floating branches onto the banks

Down yonder a bit, the waters were soft and calm

The moose and deer would lap up a refreshing drink to quench their thirst, while

Their tots bathed and splashed around in delight!

 

This particular river could not be found on any map

No, it existed under skies of blue, dotted with clouds

It stood under the sizzle of white-hot lightning and roaring thunder, summer nights of late August

Between banks where sturdy Oaks grew and filled with snows so pure, even Snow White would be flummoxed.

 

Fish played under the water in school

Their history classes never foretold of boats and worms and dangers from the world above

For there wasn’t any.

 

Photo Credit: Flickr- Creative Commons- Efilpera

Photo Credit: Flickr- Creative Commons- Efilpera