New Mexico. Adobe. Turquoise. Towering thunderclouds stretching like bison to the far horizon. Land of Enchantment. I could fall far this place. In fact, I’ll admit it. I have a crush on adobe, especially garnished with blue the color of turquoise.
There’s something about the two colors together —the turquoise of this sky and the adobe of the buildings that makes me swoon. It’s like looking into a lover’s blue eyes, falling deep inside and basking in the warmth of this New Mexico soil. Blue. Adobe.
Adobe buildings are soft and sensual, erotic and curving. They do not crush the landscape. Instead, they meld within this place, following the folds of rock, of pinyon, of sky. Driving up through Placitas and into the Sandia Mountains outside of Albuquerque, I found myself caressing the homes in the pinyons and junipers with a loving eye. Usually, I’d frown upon every subdivision that cuts into a wild land urban interface. That’s so easy to do in Montana where the houses jut at awkward angles, all corners, edges and jarring.
But here? I throw to the winds all my environmental knowledge of where to build and not to build and just savor the adobe homes. They’re my eye candy. I lust for those curvaceous walls, buxom shapes, warm colors and the way the homes lay upon the land, so languid and somnolent. I want to stretch out and be adobe —just mud and water shaped into wondrous shapes that people have inhabited for thousands of years. To be adobe, I would know only what matters. The blue of sky. the adobe of the earth.
But wait. Have I forgotten the color of green? Have I forgotten the colors of the flowing river? The sound of kingfishers clattering through lush forest rivers? Have I lost my senses here in this land of enchantment? Apparently.
Okay. I admit it. I’ve always had a penchant for turquoise and amber, for Mexican cobalt tiles, and for warm southwest colors.
My favorite jewelry? Turquoise followed closely by amber, and then silver. When remodeling a house in Missoula years ago, I chose tiles of Mexican animals, fish and a deep cobalt color tile too —all from Santa Fe. I knew in Montana that adobe itself makes no sense. The native mud would not even form the structure. But why not bring in the warmth of the desert and the blues and the colors to light up the darkest days?
Adobe. Turquoise The halcyon of serenity is there in the juxtaposition of home and sky that match this landscape like no other homes do. Yes I am thoroughly and completely enthralled, enchanted, and smitten. Okay. I know. You know. I have a crush. That means I’m not ready to look at the flaws and the cracks. But for this moment and this day, I throw my arms around New Mexico. I ask no questions.