Onwards to the last leg of our trip. We travel through the arid area of northern New Mexico:
The red sandstone formations are fascinating; at least, to me.
For miles and miles, that’s the scenery. A few scattered cedars dot the land.
Then we started to see these bushes – Chamisa or Rubber Rabbit-brush (Ericameria nauseosa). Rubber Rabbit-brush – really? They are obviously drought tolerant.
Personally, I think they’re pretty. They are listed as good for zones 7a and b. I gathered some seeds but don’t know if they would be too invasive here.
As evening approaches, the shadows creates a more varied landscape.
Night brings us to our destination: Santa Fe. It’s a somewhat central location for my sisters, their spouses and my mother to meet for a long week-end reunion.
We rented two houses, side by side, in order to have a comfortable visiting space.
The strong Spanish flavor makes Santa Fe unique. The founding name was La Villa Real de la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asis (The Royal Town of the Holy Faith of St. Francis Assisi) and was established as a province of New Spain.
Throw in the Pueblo people who lived in what is now the downtown square area, and who fought against the Spaniards trying to reclaim their space, and the native American culture is in the mix. The history gets more complex with the new Republic of Texas, after it won independence from Mexico, claiming ownership of Santa Fe.
If you like adobe houses, this is your place.
Fall colors make even this telephone pole a piece of art.
As we walk to the Art District with its numerous galleries, photo shots jump out at me.
I think this is a Locust Bean Tree.
Santa Fe galleries have some exquisite sculptures.
An early cowgirl stares into space.
Since I’m not knowledgeable about grasses, I can’t even guess at their names.
Taking a rest on the ground, this larger than life sculpture gets everyone’s attention.
Loved these whirligigs. But since they are art displays in the expensive Art District, they were way out of my price range.
With a few blooms remaining, this might be a plumbago.
This is the last of the travelogue posts. Thanks for sticking with me and reading about our trip.
“Angels come to paint the desert nightly
While the moon is gleaming brightly
Along the Santa Fe Trail,”
Sung by the Sons of the Pioneer