I’ve just returned from a month in Taos, NM, somewhat underwhelmed. I didn’t bond with Taos as I’d hoped to. Now I realize bonding wasn’t my purpose in going there.

The Taos from my month is the beautiful casita where I stayed, the chubby black and white magpie that flitted by my window, the Granddaddy Raven who announced his presence and his disdain with an unmistakable throat-clearing, throat ripping screech as he flew overhead. I didn’t get out much. The streets are narrow and twist and turn like spaghetti. I knew direction only when I was in my car and could glance at the mirror’s small compass.

But sometimes we find what we need even when we’re not looking for it.

In my Taos casita were several shelves of books. One title caught my eye and after several passes, I took it off the shelf. The book, “WINTERING,” by Katherine May was, to paraphrase Amazon’s description, “a соmреllіng ассоunt оf how the аuthоr learned tо еmbrасе a blеаk, season іn her оwn life bу turning tо thе lеѕѕоnѕ of wіntеr.” The book urged giving oneself time to recover and heal after a time of loss.

So, I wasn’t trying to know Taos at all. I spent the month  “wintering” there. I think it helped.

I need to go to Taos again, this time to “discover” and possibly bond with a charmingly dishevelled and art-filled town! I’d love an adobe casita of my own. With a walk-in shower, of course, and one of those beautifully sculpted Kiva fireplaces.








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