A Reason To Celebrate

"Santa Fe Winter" oil on board, 6 x 6 inches, by Steven Boone

It is nice to have a reason to celebrate during the darkest days of the year. Amy has a stack of presents wrapped and ready to send to her sons and their families. I used to do that at Christmas but stopped years ago. My children became adults, I became single and my parents died. My religion is Baha’i and it has its own holy days.

Hand painted gourd by Amy Cordova y Boone

Neither of my parents had a religion. Growing up, my family always observed gift giving traditions but not the religious practice or commemoration. We were poor and lived in a tenement building in Chicago. My father worked several jobs to support his wife and five children. When Christmas came around, my mother would make popcorn chains to decorate the tree. Gifts were meager. But Santa Claus would show up at the door Christmas morning.

Ralph Caprio was the best friend of our family. A few years younger than my dad, he always worked alongside my father professionally. He came from Italian immigrants who were close knit. A confirmed bachelor, he loved us Boone kids. I can remember on Christmas morning a knock at the door. My father answered and there he stood, arms full of gifts. “Ralph!” All the children shouted, and he came inside beaming with gladness and basking in warmth. His presents were always the best—better than my parents could afford. For years he was the Santa Claus in our house at Christmas.

My father has passed away, but Ralph will see another Christmas day this year in Chicago. About ten years ago he began going by the name Raff. I am forever grateful for his generous presence from the beginning of my life. Happy holidays Raff!

Touched By Magic

 

An ineffable feeling greeted me upon returning home to Santa Fe. Yes, my work responsibilities are coming at me again and the weather is freezing. Yet I have often felt charmed, as though touched by protective magic. 

The three weeks with Amy on the Big Island of Hawaii relaxed me and stimulated my imagination. Reflecting on the excursion, Amy and I agree it was governed by SOUL. On a cellular basis I felt in relationship with the vast Pacific Ocean, swimming and playing in it, seeing its awesome expanses and feeling its power. The island is quite complex. Volcanoes rose from our feet, dry coastal areas contrasted with tropical seasides, black lava fields stretched for miles and lush coffee plantations offered some of the worlds best coffee. Indigenous original people kept ancient traditions intact and transplants mixed in to Island life, creating unique flavors. 

I told Amy in advance that we needed three weeks to get “the feeling.” I know from experience that the first week is spent decompressing and adjusting. 

After Hawaii we turned up in Los Angeles and then Santa Barbara (see A Heartbeat). 

Arriving home in Santa Fe late at night, snow crunched underfoot and the first thing we did was turn the heat up. It felt good to be in our house amid our familiar and cozy surroundings. And then the feeling of being blessed came, and it has come often since.

Go With The Magic

A current of cold air has swept down from the arctic to announce winter has officially arrived in Northern New Mexico . . . and is here to stay. Snowflakes are falling and a blanket of white covers everything. It happens every year, and for some it is almost unbearable, but for others, it is magic. I go with the magic. 

A few photos to share the mood . . .

I Only Feel Elation

I call my wife Heidi Of The Mountains. When we first began spending devoted time together about four years ago, we liked to hike in the mountains, and she enjoyed it so much that when I looked at her with her blonde hair as she hiked, I called her Heidi Of The Mountains. The name stuck, and at times, she has insisted that is what I must call her—Heidi. It is the only way I refer to her online.
A few days ago, we awoke to a fresh blanket of snow, with flakes continuing to fall from the gray sky above. Not to be stopped, we took our dog and snow shoes and drove along the blanketed road toward the Santa Fe Ski Basin, into the mountains. We parked at a trail head, and were completely alone. Our dog Gracie, immediately began frolicking, thrilled to be in the winter wonderland. Indeed, we all felt happy and lunged merrily into the magical woods. The snow continued falling and the temperatures were below freezing, but we were bundled in winter clothes, together by ourselves in the wilderness, and in silence among the snow-laden trees of the forest.
Following a barely traceable trail, deeper and deeper we went . . . the snow falling gently, everything shrouded in white, and serene. The only sound was our feet crunching in the snow, and our voices as we talked or laughed. Occasionally we would stop just to listen to the silence. Nothing, broke the impasse, not wind in the trees or bird song. Gracie would stop too, and listen.

At one point, Heidi Of The Moutains said, “My hands are cold, are yours?” I replied, “I don't know, because I am so entranced and happy, I only feel elation!”

First Big Snowfall

Orchids, blooming in a windowsill.

The first big snowfall of this season took us by surprise. We awoke from dreamy sleep, and looked out the window to see the whole lot covered in white . . . and silent. A big cape of white, thrown atop everything—as if to stop the world.

We ventured forth despite the cold and cumbersome streets, slipping our way along to a coffee shop that dared to open. Not as busy this morning. After coffee and the Sunday paper, we trudged for a walk in the old part of town. Our dog, Gracie, liked this new experience very much, leaping about with glee. She comes to us from California, where she never knew what cold is.
I love photographing in snow . . . it is poetic, and shapes become minimal—surfaces serene.

Elements

The cold days of winter have wrapped their icy fingers around me. To step outside is to shiver against the elements. My girlfriend, Heidi of the Mountains, has escaped to a secluded beach in Costa Rica where she writes me love letters and describes long walks on beaches, swims in the sea, relaxing hours spent observing monkeys in the trees surrounding her deck, and adventures with her girlfriend exploring the surroundings.

Meanwhile, my daughter and ex-wife are in Hawaii, swimming in the ocean, snorkeling among sea turtles and hiking among wild orchids.

This is the time of my oldest daughter’s birthday. Naomi was born January 11, 1980 and since she died in 1999, I have always come a bit undone when her birthday comes around. In some ways, I lose my bearings and free-fall into a state of bewilderment. One year on her anniversary, I was in a car accident (my fault) and in 2008 while I was in New Zealand, on her birthday I slipped and fell down an embankment near a river, crashing down with my camera, hitting my head on a rock and briefly going unconscious. My camera lens smashed and I had to find a hospital to stitch me up.

In my last letter to Lori, (Heidi of the Mountains), I told her to have fun and bring me back good stories. I am not jealous because each moment life knocks on my door and offers surprise and revelation . . .  wherever I am, I do not need to be somewhere else. Yesterday, I was selling some imported things at an indoor flea market and met a man who had chiseled good looks—like an older Anthony Quinn. He tried on several sheepskin hats I was selling, and looked good in anything he tried. We spoke, and shared warmth between us. He bought the hat, and invited me to come visit his workplace. He is a hair stylist and artist. I said maybe I would see him. He turned and looked earnestly in my face and asked, “Just say yes or no. Are you going to come or not?” I was taken aback but realized the value of his directness. “I like to be positive” he said. I told him I would definitely come visit. After he left, other fascinating people arrived, and all this is to say, life is full and wonderful, whether in the cold of winter or a sunny tropical paradise.

In a couple weeks I will be driving with my art to Orlando, Florida for an exhibit, then on to Miami for the Coconut Grove Art Festival. I will be in warm, sunny Florida for almost three weeks.