|Navajo Mother Earth & Father Sky Rug Set - Luana Tso (#51)|
Not to be outdone, and wanting to prove a point about how amazing this part of the world is, I shared a recent experience I had while trekking up the back side of a butte. Upon arriving at the far end of the plain and stepping-out upon the awe-inspiring rim, I looked out upon this place known as southern San Juan County. The sky above was as blue as an alpine lake, with cotton-ball cloud formations scooting across the upper atmosphere on a gentle spring breeze. The only sign of human existence was vapor trails left by monster sky busses passing overhead. The 30 foot face of vertical slick-rock below the toe of my boots bulged-out, a bit like the belly of an ancient Buddha statue I had once seen. The tummy of the carving, as with these humps of stone, was weathered, mineral stained and deeply cracked, much like the sun seasoned faces of Navajo men and women I had known during my youth.
The jumble of wrecked rocks on the talus slope below constituted a ragged and jagged exhibit of fragmented sandstone. This rocky ramp was populated with tenacious juniper trees of unusual character, and clumps of dry, yellow grass. Because of the precarious footing and lack of moisture, the gnarled trees seem to have no business growing there. Somehow, as with most undaunted life forms in this region of the world, they find a way to sustain themselves. Looking across the raw and furrowed landscape, I saw sun bleached outcroppings of rock scattered about the countryside. These were interspersed with undulating mounds of red sand spotted with limited stands of sage, rabbit brush and Mormon tea.
Way off in the distance I saw a squiggly line of light green plant life making its way through the low-lying portion of the landscape. I realized a stream bed waited patiently for any precipitation the heavens might offer-up. Near what looked like a deeper impression in the landscape I saw where there must be just enough moisture captured below ground for a small group of cottonwood trees to eek out a meager existence. The foliage was more verdant there. It takes a great deluge for any amount of water to make the trip all the way to the San Juan River. The land is far too parched and porous to let any sip of refreshment escape.
As I explained to my new friends, the beauty of southern San Juan County is best viewed from on high. It is easier to see the fabric of the land from above and at a distance. The texture of what lies below makes me long to reach-out and touch it, to caress it with the tips of my fingers. When I stood on the edge of the mesa it was mid-day, light from the sun shone straight down upon the land and it was strikingly graphic. I know though that refracted light from different angles or shadow from cloud color cause a completely different impression. This is to say nothing of how moon-glow illuminates the scene. When it comes to this land of monument, mesa and canyon, an early morning, late afternoon or midnight visit to the same spot provides a completely different visual perspective.
As I spoke of our homeland and tried to explain its singular beauty, the couple seemed to comprehend, and they wanted to see it from a similar vantage point. I mentioned Cedar Mesa and told them to find their own mesa top. "In this part of the country there is no screen of tall trees, nor overgrown vegetation", I told them. "There is something exciting about the open nature of this land, the exposure that stimulates your heart and frees your emotions." "I am ready ", said the woman to the man, slapping him on the tush, "lets go!" As the woman headed out the Kokopelli doors, the man grinned as if he had just been let in on a secret. He looked after his spouse and said, "Thanks, thank you very much!" "For what?" I wondered as they bounded down the front steps hand-in-hand, hopped in their Jeep Cherokee and quickly drove away.
With warm regards from Barry Simpson and the team;
Steve, Priscilla and Danny.