Naked Southwest

Upon returning to the inn for breakfast, I discovered a lady shoveling compost out of an old pickup truck onto a flowerbed along the rear of the courtyard. I asked her about a flowering plant I had seen earlier. The plants seemed to grow heartily around the inn, and beautiful O’Keeffe-esque white blossoms bloomed out of the dense, dark green plants. The stocks and foliage were reminiscent of squash plants, but the blossoms were similar to callow lilies. Sure enough, she was familiar with the plant and offered me an introduction that was developed by the kind lady who prepared our breakfasts after offering me a book with an article written about Datura stramonium. Also called Jimson Weed, Thornapple, Devil's Apple, Devil's Trumpet, and a dozen other bizarre and wonderful names, Datura is apparently a common roadside plant in the Southwest, and consumption of the seeds induces all variety of deliriant effects upon the nervous system. (Bye, Mata, and Pimentel 1991: 32-34) Hallucinations; relaxation; fever reduction; curing insomnia, skin injuries, and a host of other ailments; pain killer; hallucinogen; sedative; and so on. This common weed with the pretty trumpet-shaped white blossoms is a wild pharmaceutical factory!

Breakfast was delicious, but it was the conversation that most sticks in my mind. It turned out that the woman shoveling compost was Claudia Wimett, the sculptress who runs the inn. We launched into a lengthy reflection about “the world today”, meandering from local New Mexico issues to national and international issues, from irrigation ditch politics to oil politics, from real estate to education. She was a blast. Outspoken and opinionated and lots of fun. It was difficult to extract myself from the conversation when it was time to saddle up, especially once we were introduced to her parents, Zemmie and Tom Wimett, the couple who own and originally started the venture. Tom, an ex-physicist from Los Alamos launched into a conversation as colorful and engaging as his daughter had, keeping me happily distracted as my companion shopped her way through the boutique. A good strategy! And before leaving, I took one final look at Claudia’s superb wood sculptures, promising myself a purchase once I have a place to exhibit her sensuous work.

At last we departed, delayed but thrilled to have passed this way and met such agreeable folks. As we drove away, the clouds were once again scudding past distant mountain peaks and threatening a return to the monsoon conditions that we had experienced the morning prior. On our winding way to Chaco Canyon, we were several times compelled to pull over and raise the Mustang’s top in order to stay dry. But once these deluges passed, pleasant weather resumed and we went on our rambling way.

We arrived at Chaco Culture National Historical Park just short of sunset, in time to reserve the last tent campsite in the park campground. A perfect location, set well back from the parking area, we assembled our tent at the base of a red rock canyon. Although the skies were clear, we decided to put the rain top on just to be safe. (And a good thing too since the skies opened up shortly after we nodded off for the night.) We ate a simple dinner at our campsite then headed off for a sunset stroll. There is a cool ruin right in the campsite, but mostly it’s the virtually barren countryside that makes the experience breathtaking. Add the fact that sun and moon were in their prime since we were only a day or two short of the Summer Solstice. Life is good… We tucked in after dark, and the desert calm and the cool air conspired to send us quickly off to sleep.

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