Trees, Redux

So, in yesterday’s post about the trees turning here in Beautiful La Hacienda Trailer Park I said “But for those of us who savor the mere existence of a tree…or trees, plural… in the middle of the vast sea of grass and scrub that is The High Plains of New Mexico, the color is a wondrous thing.” Those of you who’ve spent anytime at all in this part of the world understand that comment. Even if you’ve never been on The High Plains of New Mexico but have been elsewhere on the Great Plains…say in North Dakota, Nebraska, or Iowa, etc., you get it. But just in case you haven’t been in these places, here are a couple of views of the landscape I took during yesterday’s ride around the local countryside. You’ll note there ain’t many trees.

If and when one sees trees off in the distance in this part of the country it’s an indication of a homestead or farm, past or present. And there are many more than a few “past” homesteads in this part of the world… places where the buildings have long since vanished and only the trees remain. And then there are the sadder ones…the places where the buildings are in a state of serious disrepair, varying from “recently inhabited” to “completely falling down.”

Lord only knows the stories those places could tell if they had a voice. I wonder about ‘em, and sometimes I stop and poke around inside. I found some real treasures in abandoned places up in North Dakota, but those sort of places in this part of the world have been pretty well picked over. It’s a function of population, I suppose. As in: there are many, many more people here than in North Dakota.

Taken on NM 330… south of Floyd, north of Elida.

I Lied...

...when I said the “other” trees in Beautiful La Hacienda Trailer Park remain green until the first hard freeze, at which time their leaves simply fall off. Well, that’s not true, as you can plainly see. My excuse for the previous incorrect statement is that’s been the case for the last four consecutive Falls. This year is different.

The first pic is of the trees across the street; the second is of the Big Guy that shades El Casa Móvil De Pennington for the first half of the day. Same type of tree and don’t ask: I don’t know it’s name or variety.

Those of you who live in the northeast, midwest, or near the Front Range will probably laugh at this poor excuse for Fall Color. But for those of us who savor the mere existence of a tree…or trees, plural… in the middle of the vast sea of grass and scrub that is The High Plains of New Mexico, the color is a wondrous thing.

You take what you can get, eh?

Now, as you can tell, it’s a beautiful Fall day here in P-Ville. Sunny. Warm. And Miss Zukiko is calling.

I might be back later. But as for now? Just phoning it in, Gentle Reader.

As the Tree Turns...

October 25

October 29

November 1

Today... November 5

Four pics of what I think is a fairly elderly aspen (if there are any arborists among you, feel free to correct me), shot from approximately the same angle over a period of 12 days, beginning October 25^th. This tree sits in my neighbor’s yard right across the street from me and is the most prominent feature of the view from my desk. Assuming the cowgirls aren’t out and about, of course.

This is what passes for Fall Color here on The High Plains of New Mexico. You'll note the tree immediately to the aspen's right is still green. It will remain green until we have our first hard frost, at which time it will drop all its leaves in one fell swoop.

I was gonna wait and post a sequence where the final shot would be the nekkid tree… after it had dropped all its leaves.

But I didn’t. I can be SO impatient at times.

Today's Pic

Today’s Pic: This morning’s sunrise Ten minutes (or so; maybe 15) before dawn over the Super Eight…crystal clear (self-evident), cold (37 frickin’ degrees!), and best of all…calm. Nary a breeze at all. After 48 hours of being immersed in the maelstrom calm is welcome, indeed. Miss Zukiko is gonna stretch her legs today. Fer shure.

Speaking of wind… I had to laugh while watching the WX Channel last night. One of their reporters was going on about the wind in Chicago yesterday… “gusts of 30 mph!” Granted, there was more than that; some Chicago suburb recorded a gust of 71 mph and that exceeded what we got during the last couple of days here in P-Ville. But only by 15 mph or so. Our winds at one point yesterday were 35 mph steady, with gusts exceeding 50. And that’s what I saw with my very own eyes.

Flag Gazer... Thanks for the tip about the cache. Dunno if it's coincidence or what...but I cleared my cache and Wallah! A Pic, posted.

Assumptions

I tend to assume certain things about you, Gentle Reader, when I select items to write about, link to, or otherwise comment upon here at EIP. One of my key assumptions is you read a lot of the same stuff I do, so pointing you to, say Michael Yon’s place, would be redundant. Chances are you’ve either already been to those places before you came here, or you’re going there in short order.

That said, it never hurts to remember the ol’ saw about assumptions…the one about how they tend to make an “ass” out of “u” and “i.” So, in that spirit, I’ll simply point out the obvious, something I’m quite sure you know already: there’s no finer reporting coming out of Iraq, specifically on Operations Phantom Thunder and Arrowhead Ripper, than that provided by Yon and Bill Roggio. They’re daily reads for YrHmblScrb. And I assume they are for you, too.

I’ve been noticing a lot of back-and-forth of late between leftie and right-of-center blogs concerning Iran. The dominant line of thinking on the Left is “don’t let Chimpy McHalliburton talk us into another war like he did last time,” coupled with (to a lesser extent) “Iran poses no threat to us,” followed up by “what’s wrong with Iran having nukes? WE have ‘em…” and so on. Classic denial, in other words. The Left needs to pay more attention, or at least begin thinking along the lines of “what if Ahmadinejad really means what he’s saying?” The latter IS possible, ya know.

A good place for the Left to begin reading would be this article in today’s WSJ. I quote, in part:

The apparent meaning of all of this pointless provocation and bullying is that the axis of radicals--Iran, Syria, Hamas and Hezbollah--is feeling its oats. In part its aim is to intimidate the rest of us, in part it is merely enjoying flexing its muscles. It believes that its side has defeated America in Iraq, and Israel in Gaza and Lebanon. Mr. Ahmadinejad recently claimed that the West has already begun to "surrender," and he gloated that " final victory . . . is near." It is this bravado that bodes war.

A large portion of modern wars erupted because aggressive tyrannies believed that their democratic opponents were soft and weak. Often democracies have fed such beliefs by their own flaccid behavior. Hitler's contempt for America, stoked by the policy of appeasement, is a familiar story. But there are many others. North Korea invaded South Korea after Secretary of State Dean Acheson declared that Korea lay beyond our "defense perimeter." Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait after our ambassador assured him that America does not intervene in quarrels among Arabs. Imperial Germany launched World War I, encouraged by Great Britain's open reluctance to get involved. Nasser brought on the 1967 Six Day War, thinking that he could extort some concessions from Israel by rattling his sword.

Democracies, it is now well established, do not go to war with each other. But they often get into wars with non-democracies. Overwhelmingly the non-democracy starts the war; nonetheless, in the vast majority of cases, it is the democratic side that wins. In other words, dictators consistently underestimate the strength of democracies, and democracies provoke war through their love of peace, which the dictators mistake for weakness.

It’s the signal failure of the Left: they’re too damned good for their…our… own good. The inability to see evil, and evil intent, simply because you believe in your heart of hearts that all men want the same things…peace, love, and understanding…is a tragic and potentially lethal flaw. It continues to amaze me that otherwise rational people cannot recognize a mortal threat even as it screams out its hatred for you and all you stand for.

I really don’t get it.

Today’s Pic: A brightly lit shop in Albuquerque’s Old Town, at sunset.

January, 2004.

And now, Gentle Reader, I intend to take the remainder of this morning’s coffee and a portion of a Spanish Rosada out on the verandah. Before it gets too danged hot to do anything outside…

Desolation Row

Just a quick placeholder post… I have to get ready to go over to The Big(ger) City^TM as I have a service appointment for the ‘Zuki this morning. It’s not gonna be a fun ride; the temp is 46 degrees (with a wind chill of 40) as I write. I hate riding in the cold…but at least it ain’t raining.

Back later this morning or early this afternoon, depending. “Depending on what?” you ask? “Mostly on when I feel like it,” sez I.

Today’s Pic: Another shot of that abandoned bar, this time from the rear. What a sad sight, eh? Dylan’s “Desolation Row” kept playing in my mind as I wandered about the premises on Sunday. Not all that appropriate, I know, but kinda-sorta…

Old But Not Dead, Like Some Things

So. I put 200 miles or so on the bike yesterday, riding down to Roswell and back…the ostensible purposes being (a) to put miles on the bike; (b) have lunch in Roswell; and (c) do a little “styling and profiling” on the Main Drag in Alien-Town. Mission Accomplished.

I woke up this morning feeling old…quite old. I’ll spare you the detailed litany of complaints; suffice it to say I’m sore. My back hurts. The fleshy area of the thumb on my right hand is sore. My left thigh feels like it spent a few hours with Saddam’s rubber-hose wielding thugs. (ed: I thought you were gonna spare us? Oh, shaddup—you know there’s more.) I’m obviously out of riding shape; the corollary to that thought is “getting old really sucks.” I digress.

Not only am I not in great physical riding shape, my general riding skills need a bit of buffing, too. Not the safety-related skills…those are fine, thank you. Head on a swivel, front brake covered in traffic, situational awareness A-OK, and all that. Nope…it was in those rare moments (twice, I believe) when I had to set up for a corner that I found myself being a bit tentative… having to adjust my line once or twice while in the corner, experiencing a bit of difficulty judging the appropriate entry and exit speeds, and all that. Not that there are all that many corners in this part of the world to begin with. I need to head north on my next trip to reacclimatize myself with riding in the twisty-turnies. I’m rusty, and that’s putting it mildly. Once again, I think age may be rearing its ugly head. I’m a lot less bolder than I used to be.

But it was great fun. I’ve reached the magic 500-mile threshold; after I get the bike its 500-mile service tomorrow (hopefully. Another story, that.) I’ll be free to see what it feels like to wind that sucker out all the way to its 10,500 rpm red line. One thing I will tell you: the bike will do 100 mph, and easily, too. It was still pulling hard at a little over 7,500 rpm when I hit 100 (briefly, very briefly) on one of those lonely “you can see forever” stretches of road between P-Town and Roswell. It should go without saying the weather cooperated yesterday. It was a little breezy, but not the life-threatening sort of gales we experienced this past week.

Today’s Pics: New Mexico used to have a patch-work of wet and dry counties in the way-back. One of the fixtures from that day and age is the county-line bar…and there are numerous examples —all dead now— of that phenomenon dotting the New Mexico landscape. Here’s one such…the county-line bar about a mile over the Roosevelt-Chaves County line on US 70 south of Kenna, NM.

I’ve been by this deserted old road house at least 20 times and never stopped to take pics until yesterday. As you can see, the most prominent feature is the B – A – R mounted on a 40-foot (or so) tower over the building. That sign, which I imagine was done up in bright red neon back in the day, is visible for miles before you get to the bar. And…not to put too fine a point on it…this unnamed bar is literally in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, about 30 to 35 miles south of P-Town.

I can also imagine what it must have felt like on a summer Saturday night back in 1958 or so…cruising south from Portales in your ’55 Chevy convertible with the top down, warm breeze in your hair, laughing, telling bad jokes, anticipation building, seeing the B - A - R sign glowing in the distance and then… Pulling into the crowded parking lot…getting out of the car…walking into the bar… hearing Hank Williams (Senior, thank you) on the juke box… watching the heads turn to see who just arrived. Shouting "Hey!" to your Buds, and the odd girl or three. Dancing. Brawls. Marriages made, marriages broken. I could almost smell the beer and the Crown Royal as I walked around the sadly-broken premises. Ah…the stories…the stories!

(Didja read the caption to the bike pic? Yes, that fairing/tank combo does make you look fat. Don’t ever let anyone photograph you from that angle, ever again.)

Still Slow, But Passable

In the NYT: House Panel Authorizes Subpoenas for Top Bush Aides

As the war of words escalated, people on both sides acknowledged a legal fight carried political risks. Beth Nolan, who was counsel to President Bill Clinton and twice testified to Congress under subpoena, said she suspected the clash would lead to more negotiations, and not a court fight. “There’s the legal path to the fight and the political path,” she said. “It’s much more likely that you’ll see a political path.”

One would hope. There’s way too much on both parties’ plates—real, serious business, such as getting the supplemental DoD appropriation passed, minus the vote-soliciting pork—than to be mucking around in the political mud. But, just to mix my metaphors, the Dems smell blood in the water. I don’t think they’re gonna back down. So, folks, we appear to be heading towards a side-show of spectacular proportions. {sigh}

News you can use… It Boils Down to This: Cheap Wine Works Fine

And so we came to a new gospel: Never cook with a wine you wouldn’t drink.

For my generation of home cooks, this line now has the unshakable ring of a commandment. It was the first thing out of the mouth of every expert I interviewed on the subject.

But it is not always helpful in the kitchen. For one thing, short of a wine that is spoiled by age, heat or a compromised cork, there are few that I categorically would not drink. (Although a cooking wine, which is spiked with salt and sometimes preservatives, has never touched my braising pot.)

I’ve been a subscriber to that ol’ saw for years and years and years, having learned it at my Daddy’s knee (Mom, too). And I’ve never purchased anything labeled as “cooking wine.” I don’t know if my parents got it from Julia Child (who is credited by the NYT as establishing the meme), but they probably did. Ms. Child was one of my parents’ minor heroes, and for good reason. I cook with wine a lot, when I cook. And one of the greatest pleasures in so doing is having a glass of the wine I’m using…most often a cheap(er) but pleasing burgundy. So…bottles of cooking wine don’t last long around El Casa Móvil De Pennington.

The linked article is a little too much “inside tee-ball” for my tastes, to wit:

I made the dish three times in one morning: first with a 2000 Barolo ($69.95), next with a 2005 dolcetto d’Alba ($22.95), and finally with a jack-of-all-wines, a Charles Shaw cabernet sauvignon affectionately known to Trader Joe’s shoppers as Two-Buck Chuck. (Introduced at $1.99, the price is up to $2.99 at the Manhattan store.)

I’ve never bought a $70.00 bottle of wine. Ever. (I have bought $50.00+ bottles of single-malt, however.) Still and even, the article is an interesting, if somewhat “out there,” sort of read.

Makes me wonder, though. Would my guests be offended if they knew they were drinking my cooking wine?

More PC excess: Huffing and Puffing - Is smoking a cigarette now enough to give a movie an R rating?

That's only the tip of the Marlboro, though. If every piece of filmed entertainment featuring tobacco usage is to be slapped with an R, the ratings board might want to borrow a trick from the kids and call in a few pizzas and some kegs of Red Bull. They'll have to either airbrush or give the scarlet R letter to the entire Marx Brothers oeuvre and the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby pictures. Also out will be "Meet Me in St. Louis," "Lady and the Tramp," "E.T.," Bugs Bunny cartoons, "The Parent Trap," "Chariots of Fire," "Superman," "The Chronicles of Narnia," "Elf" and the World Series (which should be banned for its tediousness, not its players' incessant tobacco chewing).

Christmas won't be the same without you, Frosty--unless you replace your corn-cob pipe with a stick of Dentyne. And some Grinch had better get to work ridding every children's library of its copy of "A Visit from St. Nicholas" ("The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth/And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.")

Good Lord. Has it come to this? Really? Just in case you choose not to follow the link, the proposal to ban smoking in movies was voted down by the MPAA. This time. The prudes are persistent, if not exactly smart, though. Just like Ahnold, “they’ll be baaaack.”

Today’s Pic(s): El Palacio Real, Santa Fe. As the sign says, “…the oldest public building in the United States.” And the haunt of many, many craft vendors. I’ve literally spent hours in the vicinity waiting for my women friends to finish shopping this long, long line…

Santa Fe. June, 2004.
(click for larger. I posted "small" photos coz I wasn't quite sure how long they'd take to upload. If ever.)

Another Late, Late Night/Early Morning

So. I found this last evening in a comments forum at RP, of all places:

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Here we go...

If you're here, you probably know what I am about to do, but here's the synopsis:
- From Aug 1 - Oct 9 2006 I will ride a motorcycle around China
- I'll be traveling with George Bourassa, Mike Barkelew, and David Poh
- George convinced a Chinese motorcycle company, Qingqi, to sponsor this ride
- Our route begins and ends in Jinan, Shandong province and will likely stretch as far west as Sichuan, on the Tibetan plateau
- Qingqi wants our photos and footage to turn into an advertising campaign
- I hope to post to this blog regularly to keep people apprised of our progress
...stay tuned!

The first entry on the blog is above; the last entry is on October 6, 2006. In between there are lots of photos and a very interesting narrative! Four guys, four dual-purpose bikes, China, and Tibet. Now there’s an adventure for ya!

Would you believe it’s 1140 and I’m just now finishing that first cup? S’true, Gentle Reader. Another one of those late, late nights, which ended around 0400 this morning. This time I was up into the early hours reading the blog, above. Time well-spent, in this case. T’isn’t always so.

Today’s Pic: The Roosevelt County courthouse in the dead of night. Or would that be in the wee small hours? Choose your favorite term for 0330 hrs in the morning, coz that’s when I took the pic. Most places are “eerily quiet” at this hour; Portales is much, much more so. I wandered around in the middle of the street (literally) for half an hour taking pictures, with neither a car nor a soul to drive one to be seen or heard…anywhere. For other views of the courthouse taken during this early morning outing, go here and here.

July, 2005.

Motivation - Still Lacking

So…I was going to lampoon His Highness for the thoughtless remark he made yesterday about banning Mickey Dee’s. More better, and more to the point, here’s what Mr. Crittenden has to say:

Antiquated, costly symbol of Britain’s past Imperial glory slams modern, popular, highly profitable and tasty symbol of America’s global cultural imperialism.*

Next week: stay tuned as object of much ludicrous, lavish medieval pageantry involving lots of ermine, gilt coaches and puffy pants condemns colonial upstart nation’s electronic entertainment industry.

My snark is just SO lacking, by comparison.

Here’s a “Good News” story… Sanctions that Work:

In the recent cases of North Korea and Iran, a new variety of U.S. Treasury sanctions is having a potent effect, suggesting that the conventional wisdom may be wrong.

These new, targeted financial measures are to traditional sanctions what Super Glue is to Elmer's Glue-All. That is, they really stick. Deputy Treasury Secretary Robert Kimmitt doesn't even like to call them sanctions, preferring the term "law enforcement measures." Explains Stuart Levey, Treasury's undersecretary for terrorism and financial intelligence: "Sanctions are scoffed at. They have a bad history."

Authority for the new sanctions, as with so many other policy weapons, comes from the USA Patriot Act, which in Section 311 authorizes Treasury to designate foreign financial institutions that are of "primary money laundering concern." Once a foreign bank is so designated, it is effectively cut off from the U.S. financial system. It can't clear dollars; it can't have transactions with U.S. financial institutions; it can't have correspondent relationships with American banks.

This explains, in part, why Iran recently converted its financial reserves from dollars to Euros and has been trying to establish a Euro-based oil bourse since 2005. Economic warfare, in other words. But as Ignatius notes, today’s financial markets are so intertwined and inter-dependent (thanks to globalization) that there’s not a lot that can be done to blunt the effect of these financial actions. As the Iranians and Norks are learning.

Oh, and just as an aside…the vehicle that makes those “sanctions with teeth” possible? The USA PATRIOT Act. You know, that constitution shredding, privacy invading, martial-law enabling, egregious affront to freedom loving Americans… Q&O has more on this line of thought.

Today’s Pic(s): Can a bridge be beautiful? Well, yes…according to the American Institute of Steel Construction. And this bridge over the Rio Grande near Taos is, by acclamation of the aforementioned AISC, “Most Beautiful Steel Bridge, Long Span Division.” I wonder if there was an awards show when this accolade was handed out? No matter. It is pretty, ain’t it?

(PS: The photo of the bridge itself is kinda dark, but I wanted to highlight the dramatic sky in the background.)

May, 2004.