Saturday, June 17, 2017
Mountain Earth Ship
We were on our way to our earth ship. That's right. Ili the Hippie had booked us into an earth ship in Taos. The drive up was beautiful, of course. Ili, who had never driven through the west, was very happy.
When we got to the outskirts of town, Maps told us to make a left. I had been skeptical of the whole earth ship thing since I heard about it.
"We aren't even to town yet."
"We are two miles from town. It says we can walk to town along the river."
We pulled off the highway and onto some winding roads. The neighborhood looked sketchy, redneck trailer park-style. But Ili kept up hopes. For awhile. She really didn't know what an earth ship was. Plus, she thought we were going to be further away from everyone with coyotes and crickets.
I spied it by the side of the road.
"There it is."
"O.K. Next time, you pick out the place we stay."
We pulled up the gravel drive and stopped.
It looked like a hobbit hole. Ili was slow to get out of the car.
"It got really good reviews," she said. She wasn't sure this was it. She had me go up first.
"The key's in the door. It's open."
We went inside.
"Look! It's really nice. I love our earth ship."
She was right. It was really cute. In one room was a kitchen, a dining room, a living room with a king sized bed, and a sleeping loft. There was a greenhouse shower/bathroom, too.
Here's a picture of the toilet taken from the shower.
"It will be like pooping outside."
We unloaded our stuff and headed to Smith's, a wonderful grocers, where we bought olives and bread and olive oil and cheese to go with our wine. We bought sausage raviolis and red sauce and ground grass fed beef for dinner. And then we were sitting on two chairs facing out over a field with apple trees, and all was well. Everyone was happy.
After dinner and a late sunset, the sky still purplish-blue, we showered. I saw a cricket but didn't think about it. Clean and full, we sat down in the living room--and the cricket began to show his chops.
"Holy shit. That's going to drive me crazy. I should have stepped on him."
Like magic, though, he quit, and we didn't hear from him again.
In this morning's light, we took our coffee and grapes and melon outside. Taos. The day begins.
Posted by cafe selavy at 10:49 AM