One of the most amazing days of my life. (It still was. Placeholder eliminated.)

It began like this.

The road to the Cliff Dwellings is 44 paved miles, but so narrow and twisty that they put up a sign saying it will take two hours. That overstates the case a little for the average vehicle, but it does take plenty more time than you would think, to go that far.

About halfway up, there’s a junction with another little road coming up from the south as well.

About halfway up, we realized we forgot to get gas and were running on a couple gallons of emergency reserve.

By far the smartest thing would have been to turn around and go back the way we came. But we were not feeling smart. We were feeling bold. So we proceeded to the junction, met the other little road, hung a right, and prayed to each other.

There was no gas at Roberts Lake, but there was something better.

Standing in the middle of the narrow pavement as we came around a curve was a heron. This bird was almost as tall as I am, and talk about feeling bold … we slowed of course, but she didn’t budge right away. She posed for us.

Then she gathered her wings, lifted herself with an effort, and flew off in the direction of the lake. We watched, a long long time, rolling slow and cautious.

Before this one perfect day, I had never seen a heron anywhere except out in the water where they are supposed to belong. Certainly never in a road, and … there was not even any apparent reason for her to be there. No roadkill. No puddle.

It was just a gift she gave us.

There was no gas at Mimbres. There used to be, but the pumps were gutted and only the breakfast and burger shack was operational. The situation was getting quite serious. For the narrative, I should be amping the tension here. But we didn’t feel it much. We were still bold, and maybe even freshly emboldened, by that brave bird.

In the end we had to loop almost clear back, but we found fuel at Bayard without incident and this time we did head back the way we came, because we’d seen a sign for a museum, and the sign had Mimbres art on it.

As things turned out, they had been closed for months, but had opened back up on the Friday for the weekend only. They opened back up just for us, and it felt like a reward for boldness.

First we met the resident tomcat, a friendly boy named Smokey. Then we went in and talked to the ranger lady, a real anthropologist and archaeologist. We asked a lot of questions and she had a lot of answers.

It turns out that the place wasn’t officially a museum yet. That was coming, thanks to a grant. But the reason we were on this site was … this is where all the Mimbres art comes from. This was the dig site, down along the river, where they found the art on pottery in the first place.

There’s plenty more to tell about the science and the art, but this day isn’t even half over. You should just take the trip yourself. Please tell Smokey and the Heron that we say hi.

We also looked for a coffee place called The Three Questions, but it didn’t exist in recognizable form. We’d learn more about that later in the trip too. So we proceeded downriver to a vineyard that must very nearly be the oldest in the Southwest. A friendly man came out, said they were closed for tastings, and talked us through our own preferences to match us up with six bottles he thought we’d like.

Then we rolled back into town and refilled our coffee cups.

That would be a pretty kickass day already, but the best is coming.

Back on 24 June, last time I was here, I wrote this about leaving town:

At the very boundary edge of heaven, I saw a place for sale. It meets all the many requirements I have, and it was priced at exactly 150K.

On this Heron day, I ached to see it again.

So without saying anything, I took her up past the pet shelter, closed, and then drove around there trying to figure out exactly where this heaven place was. It didn’t take long.

Somewhat to my surprise, she took to it right away. She got out her phone and figured out that the price had dropped to 135. This too was emboldening, and we cracked the gate open, and wandered freely. Oh god oh god. The views from the backyard were extraordinary. We stepped on and over peaches and apricots that had ripened and fallen to the ground, what? Mature fruit trees too?

A big outbuilding. A semi-screened porch that with some fixing might be the most amazing office ever.

Roses growing in a wild tangle. Homemade rock walls here and adobe over there.

We stayed and stayed and dreamed and dreamed and then left the site, but reluctantly, and stayed in the neighborhood. There was a roughly developed open space with miles of good trail, and we walked some. There was La Capilla, the chapel, up on the hill with no one else around …

God oh god.