…and I am laying in the sun on some hay bales in the yard by the horno. Thinking, I do indeed feel called to do design work infused with poetry. I went for a long walk this morning, up behind the house. There is no one in that expanse, only scrub brush, sand, a random pile of ash where someone had a fire. There are markers to find my way: a line of rock and stumps, a barbed wire fence, a tattered, faded prayer flag stretched from one pinon tree to the next, a chain-link fence – downed in one part so I can pass over, a green, metal, pad-locked gate that I climb to reach the tarred road. Only a few cars pass me by the whole time on the main road. When I’ve walked down it far enough, I retrace my steps and follow the landmarks back home. I don’t want to to get up from these hay bales in the sun. The sky is blue, the air crisp with an autumn breeze already. I’m enjoying the free time while I have it.