The Cowboy

I was told it was going to reach the nineties yesterday by Ruth in the office and there’s no air conditioning here in Chimayo; global warming will be changing the air conditioning situation here soon I suspect. 

The door to the balcony is open to allow the cool mountain air to circulate. 

I drank sangria with abandon this holiday weekend, my head is a little fuzzy and I think I should go and take an ibuprofen. No clock, no electronics of any kind in this throw-back New Mexico B & B, so I’m not sure what time it is. It’s dark and it has the feel of early A.M.  

I press myself up and walk around the huge, old bed; the pine floor squeaks with each step I take.  Cringing, I hope not to wake Pete. As I make my way to the bathroom a sliver of moonlight is thrown across the floor at my feet. I grope around in the medicine bag hoping to find what I’m looking for without turning on a light. Finding the meds I quickly swallow two and head back to bed. In the distance I hear howling, it starts with one animal and then he is joined by several more. I think at first that its coyotes and I smile, but soon I recognize the barking is actually my domesticated friend the dog. I crawl back in bed and the barking goes on…maddeningly, all night. The hooting and howling stops as the first rays of daylight burst from behind the mountain and I drift back to sleep.  

I wake (maybe) an hour later to the sound of a cowboy singing, literally a guy in a cowboy hat is playing guitar outside in the courtyard. I roll over and ask Pete to check his watch; its 7:15. My head is throbbing and I lay still. The “Johnny Cash” wannabe had played all the previous night, he was well received by the other eight guests, mostly grey haired and pretentious. After each set they would applaud and he would drop a little anecdotal fact about himself, “yes, yes I have been playing a while, I started when I was six years old, and (haha) I’m nowhere near that anymore.” Then he would begin to smoothly croon his next tune “ice cream on my lips, chocolate, vanilla…” and this went on for the next couple of hours.  

My head has moved to a low thrum and I roll over and snuggle into Pete’s chest. As I listen I begin to snicker. Pete pulls back and looks down at me. What a quintessential New Mexico experience. What are the odds that we would be in this moment having this experience with these complete strangers? 

Always looking for the good moments in each day is something I strive to do, kind of like an art form I want to perfect, in any case it was a quirky moment that I appreciated. I must go now and change the bedsheets in the extra bedroom as I await the arrival of an artist that we met at the B & B who will be staying the night with us before she catches her plane back to Texas in the morning, but that is a whole other story.