No trip to Santa Fe would be complete without hitting some of my favorite restaurants.  One of my top loves is pictured here from my preferred lunch spot — the Blue Corn Cafe.  Their corn soup is so rich you only need a cup!  We revisited Tecolote for an incredible breakfast of blue corn pancakes and blue corn grits.  The one thing I can never get enough of is blue corn.  They have it in Texas but generally only in “New Mexican” restaurants.  And even then it’s mostly just the chips with the salsa.  Blue corn (also known as Hopi maize) is a variety of flint maize (or Indian corn) grown in Mexico and the Southwestern United States, particularly in Arizona and New Mexico.  It was originally developed by the Hopi organically and remains an essential part of their dishes.  The 17th century English explorer, naturalist, and writer John Lawson said:

“The Indian Corn, or Maiz, proves the most useful Grain in the World; and had it not been for the Fruitfulness of this Species, it would have proved very difficult to have settled some of the Plantations in America.”

Blue corn is a staple of New Mexican cuisine.  In addition to its sharply different color, blue corn has several nutritional advantages over the standard yellow or white corn varieties; it contains more protein and has a lower glycemic index.  When used to make tortillas, blue corn produces a sweeter, nuttier taste than yellow or white corn.  Blue corn is simply the best!  And of course no trip to Santa Fe would be complete without visiting The Shed, a 17th century house tucked away at the back of a beautiful little patio and surrounded by a number of small shops.  It is famous for its blue corn enchiladas smothered in red or green chilie.  If you cannot decide which one you can simply say “Christmas” and get both.  If I could only have one thing to eat for the rest of my life it would definitely be my beloved blue corn.

In Santa Fe I have found there is always something lovely and/or interesting to photograph.  I wanted to get out on our second day and visit some of my favorite spots ranging from churches to shops.  My father got to know a great many Native people on our family trips because he was Choctaw and I was anxious to revisit old friends.  While introducing our little one to the Chapel of San Loretto I snapped a picture of this rosary tree.  I thought it was full of grace and beauty, just like the Blessed Mother herself.  The chapel was inspired by my favorite church in the world, the French Sainte-Chapelle, but I did not fail to notice the southwestern influence of Our Lady of Guadalupe residing underneath the tree.  Built in 1878, the chapel is known the world over for its “Miraculous Staircase” which forms two perfect 360 degree turns in its spiral staircase without the use of any nails or visible means of support.  The staircase has undergone extensive reviews over the years by scientists and educated skeptics alike, and yet none have ever been able to disprove it.  The American entrepreneur Jim Rohn said:

“Learning is the beginning of wealth.  Learning is the beginning of health.  Learning is the beginning of spirituality.  Searching and learning is where the miracle process all begins.”

I thought this tree had a certain quirky eloquence — just like Santa Fe herself.  Never having seen one like it; I found it very moving.  Catholic or Protestant, Christian or non, and whether or not you believe in miracles, I do not think anyone can dispute the organic beauty of the rosary tree.

Just a scant month later my little one would take her second flight, this time to one of my favorite cities in the world — Santa Fe.  It was always special for my parents and me and now we were bringing our six month old to see my husband’s maternal side of the family.  Her grandmother and step grandfather have a beautiful home there that overlooks the Sangre de Cristos, one of the largest chains of mountains on Earth.  The mountains got their name, “Blood of Christ,” from the Spanish because of their reddish hues at sunrise and sunset.  It was still chilly in April and the mountains were capped with a light dusting of snow.  The piñon fires were lovely, as was the view looking out from their portal across the mountains.  They had a “Sip and See” to introduce our little one and she was good natured about being passed around.  I got a chance to relax and it was probably the first time I have ever had downtime on a trip.  It was strange for me to let go without worrying I was missing something.  I suppose I have a need to see and do everything possible because I did not have the privilege of traveling growing up.  However, I had visited Santa Fe over half a dozen times prior to this trip so it was one of the places I knew pretty well and I did not have the fear of missing out.  The Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh said:

“We will be more successful in all our endeavors if we can let go of the habit of running all the time, and take little pauses to relax and re-center ourselves.  And we’ll also have a lot more joy in living.”

As I looked out over the mountains I realized:  we were not missing a thing simply enjoying time spent in Santa Fe in the Sangre de Cristos.

All too soon it would be time for us to go.  Our trip was way too short but I did not want to impose any more upon my cousins.   Burk and I are museum junkies and we both have a love of history.  My passion for Native American art and culture stems from my own Choctaw grandmother, despite the fact that she lived her life as a white woman.  I cannot say that I blame her, given that in her parents’ lifetime there was the largest mass hanging in U.S. history — and it was of Native people.  My sweet, still sharp mother said we must go to the Heard Museum before we left Phoenix.  I was so sad she was unable to join us.  My cousin may have thought we were nuts bringing an infant into a museum, but she was our baby and we would be taking her through them her entire life whenever we got the chance.  I was proud this was to be her first.  This picture I thought summed up our little family beautifully … only instead of a cradleboard she had a carriage.  It was a smallish museum positively jammed with Native American culture; Burk and I could have gotten lost in there for hours.  We had the fortune of traveling to Alaska and New York at this point (among other cities) and I can tell you it is the best Native American museum I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.  What a treasure trove!  Their mission is “to be the world’s preeminent museum for the presentation, interpretation and advancement of American Indian art, emphasizing its intersection with broader artistic and cultural themes.”  All I know is it was an embarrassment of riches; truly phenomenal.  I thought how fitting it was that this is where my part Native child would go first — even if she was too young to remember it.  The half Mohawk Canadian songwriter Robbie Robertson said, “You don’t just stumble upon your heritage.  It’s there, just waiting to be explored and shared.”  That is precisely what we did on our sweet child’s first ever trip away from home … at the Heard Museum.

This was the day we all climbed into two vans and went on a family road trip.  From Phoenix we took the Apache Trail and I thought about how fierce Apache warriors once fled high into the mountains where the U.S. soldiers could not reach them.  Our journey would take us through the Superstition Mountains and Wilderness.  The great American lecturer Helen Keller said:

“Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.  Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.  Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”

Definitely not for the faint of heart, it was full of dizzying heights and hairpin curves.  But the reward was worth it.  Canyon Lake is the smallest of four lakes created by dams on the Salt River, but probably the most picturesque.  We were at an elevation of about 1,600 feet and we all looked around in awe at the red rock canyon walls, blue water, and wide open sky dotted with white, fluffy clouds.  The peace of stopping here still stays with me; the joy of bringing my baby and my husband here with the only family I have left was indescribable.  Next we crossed the water over a suspension bridge and were headed to Tortilla Flat, an authentic Old West town nestled in the midst of the Tonto National Forest.  Referred to as “The Town Too Tough To Die,” neither fire nor flood has been able to claim it.  Tortilla Flat began as a stagecoach stop in 1904 and remains a small unincorporated community northeast of Apache Junction, proudly boasting a population of six.  The town is primarily compromised of a mercantile, museum, and restaurant.  The Superstition Restaurant and Saloon had saddle bar stools and walls and walls of dollar bills from around the world covering every available vertical surface from floor to ceiling.  They were even plastered to the wooden pillars top to bottom.  We added one of our own for the three of us and had old fashioned sarsaparillas with lunch.  The tiny Tortilla Flat Museum, also known as The Old School House, was so small I remember it was overcrowded with just a handful of people inside at once.  On our way home we got to stop briefly at the beautiful, historic Apache Falls Church.  The sun was setting and it looked so picturesque:  this little whitewashed wooden church standing proudly in the middle of nowhere with a simple iron cross on top.  There was nothing around it but wide open space; the desert and sky a fitting backdrop.  It was a perfect ending to a wonderful day spent with my family at Canyon Lake and Tortilla Flat.

The next morning Burk and I set out with our little one to see the Desert Botanical Garden which was nothing short of stunning.  It began in the 1930’s with the goal of preserving the area’s pristine desert environment.  Believe it or not, there are cactus rustlers who steal the venerable Saguaros, which produce beautiful white flowers with yellow centers that bloom in May and June.  It is the state flower of Arizona.  These thieves are damaging a complex, special, and fragile ecosystem.  The giant cactus stores water which allows it to bloom every year, regardless of rainfall.  I fell in love with them and they are my absolute favorite.  Phoenix’s Desert Botanical Garden also helps save endangered native plants, with an emphasis on succulents.  Their cactus collection is world-renowned and between March and May the blooms are spectacular.  We were fortunate to have come at just the right time.  In addition to my beloved Saguaros, I discovered I love the Organ pipe cacti and learned there are beehive cacti, Buckhorn cholla, Arizona pencil cholla, Teddy bear cholla, the dreaded Jumping cholla (found that one out the hard way plucking their long stickers out of my rump,) barrel cacti, Pancake prickly pear, and my tied-for-favorite Violet prickly pear you see pictured here just to name a few.  It became scorching hot even for us native Texans and I got worried about the baby so we went back home a little earlier than we would have liked.  Later, after dinner we had our bedroom windows open with a stunning view of the setting sun.  The American writer Joyce Carol Oates once so eloquently said, “Night comes to the desert all at once, as if someone turned off the light.”  And with it we heard the yipping of coyotes in the not so far off distance while we breathed in the cool, fresh air of the Sonoran Desert.

Our little one was just five months old when she took her first flight.  We went to Phoenix to see my family, whom we had not gotten to visit with since our wedding four years earlier.  That morning before our flight she ate her first real food.  So it was a special time with several firsts.  I chose this picture because I have said it numerous times — wolves always find me, or I find them.  Forgive the grainy picture but as you can see, my spirit animal was present the very first time I took my little wolf cub on a plane.  Seeing my family was so important to me.  My mother was going to go but her health was not well enough to allow her to make it.  It was March and the desert was in bloom.  Seeing all the flowers on the cacti and the birds they attracted were magical.  My first cousins have a beautiful home and they showed us around their property, explaining about all the different types of flora and fauna which was fascinating.  That first day my second and third cousins came over and we all had a great family dinner.  My first cousin made a pistachio cake that my husband literally devoured.  Many of my fondest childhood memories are of spending time with my uncle, aunt, and cousins in California and Arizona when I was seven.  My uncle got me a camera, which began my love of pictures; something he and my mother shared.  And I will never forget driving through the great redwood forests.  Time and distance may have separated us but the bond remained unbroken.  My baby doll carries our family name and it was so good to be with them again.  The American writer Alex Haley said, “In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.”  And with my little one, my precious small family has been reborn, like the rising from the ashes of the phoenix.