Notes from Westwater

Graduation and the Sonoran Desert

“Why do you live here?” I blurted, my legs feeling like noodles from the intense heat. “I ask myself that question every day,” Shannon, Ted’s niece, admitted as we walked toward the huge horse arena where her son’s graduation would take place at seven p.m. “It took me three years to adjust to the...

A collapsed bridge abutment on the narrow guage Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad near Green River. Ted Palmer photo

Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad

As Ted, Kenidee, and I hiked across the desert south of the Bookcliffs, we heard the whistle of a locomotive, two longs, one short, and one long blast, signaling the train was approaching an intersection. The sound sent shivers through me. I couldn’t help wondering if a train whistle sounded like...

White iron crosses the cemetery in Dawson, NM. Two coal mining accidents 100 years ago claimed the lives of hunmdreds of Dawson residents. Ted Palmer photo

White Iron Crosses at the Dawson Cemetery

I scrutinized the wide-angle, black-and-white photograph taken inside the Phelps Dodge Mercantile in Dawson, NM, circa early 1900s. The ceiling, supported by massive pillars, was probably 20 feet high with long windows lighting the spacious building and electric lights hanging from chains every few...

A deer nibbles on a pinion bush in the stillness of what was once the heart of a volcano at the Capulin Volcano National Monument in northeastern New Mexico. It’s hard to imagine today the violence that was once unleashed there. Merry Palmer photo

The Ludlow Massacre and Capulin Volcano

I inched across the ice on the trail snaking down into the Capulin Volcano crater. I had super treads on my hiking shoes, but as I took another step my feet slid out from under me and I landed with a thud on my back. Ted, who had already crossed the icy patch, said he heard the crack. My back ached...

Eagles Nest Ruin on Comb Ridge. Merry Palmer photo

Weightlifting, ruins, and ‘gustatory’ delights

Our grandson, Sam, has been fascinated with ancient civilizations for a long time, so at the beginning of his spring break, his dad drove him from Lee’s Summit, Missouri, to Denver where we picked him up. Although it was spring, this 15-year-old, with curly brown hair and a smile that could light...

Marvelous vistas at Heron Lake State Park near Chama, NM . Merry Palmer photo

Miracle deliverance from the Fourth Deadly Sin

“If I can turn the wheels enough,” my hubby said, “we’ll go down backwards instead of sideways. If we go down sideways, we’ll roll.” Still out of breath from struggling up the muddy embankment, Ted hoisted himself, mud and all, into the driver’s seat of our new-to-us Toyota 4-Runner, which perched...

A tribute to Sandra Skouson

Soon by Sandra Skouson I will travel slower than the dune and let the blue-black beetle leave her lacy tracks in cool still waves across my skin. That day I will lie in the sun and hear the warm wind’s welcome to the sand. Grain by grain I will abandon the groping cottonwood And never mourn the...

The massive endangered California Condor soaring on thermals high above the canyon country. Ted Palmer photo

Chasing the California Condors

Ted grabbed his camera and rushed out of the Grand Canyon restaurant where we were eating lunch. I strained my eyes, caught a glimpse of huge black wings through the windows, and grabbed my own camera, leaving my puzzled mom alone at the table. Once outside, Ted and I snapped photos of the...

A spectacular view of the La Sal Mountains from the Behind the Rocks area south of Moab. Merry Palmer photo

Visiting Behind the Rocks and the blessed power of prayer

“I am His Child Made with His Love And it is enough to Bring me to my knees He’s reaching down And I’m reaching up And somehow I feel the Maker’s Touch” – Jenny Phillips, “The Maker’s Touch” The trail sloping up toward a huge sandstone arch was rocky and dry. Ted, Kenidee, and I were hiking in an...

The Guadalupe Cemetery near Cabezon Peak. Merry Palmer photo.

Guadalupe & the Rio Puerco Valley

Juan Diego was climbing Tepeyac Hill near Mexico City when suddenly the air filled with exquisite music, and the hill, normally barren during December, bloomed like a flower garden. “Where am I?,” he asked. “Could this be the place that our ancestors spoke of—the Flower World Paradise in the land...