Mary is a professional musician. She has spent much of her adult life playing classical music with symphony orchestras. She also plays the Native American flute. Not long after she arrived, she asked if she might play a blessing song throughout the gallery. Absolutely! So I shot a video as she moved from room to room. And this centuries-old home gathered her in its embrace.

I am no longer needing fires to heat the house. While Skye and Bubba are deeply disappointed by this and would likely cozy up to a morning fire in the middle of the summer, the fact is, wood chores are over for the season. I’ve filled the indoor bin to brimming, the wood pile that has been a fixture in the front yard for the duration of the winter is gone, the tarps are folded and stowed.

Okay, I can’t help it. I’m over the moon about the arrival of spring! Living up here at 8500 feet, the winters can be long and cold. But I saw my first blue bird today—a little finch-sized bit of living color—that made my heart sing. So I’ll say goodbye to winter for another year, with gratitude for the snow we’ve received, and will fully embrace the spirit of spring.

The Sandia Mountains are east of Albuquerque and more than a two hour drive from my home. Even so, I see them from my house as part of my southern view. They’re that little graceful, humped shape sitting above the rest of the hills—rather elegant I’ve always thought. Sandia means watermelon in Spanish. It’s thought the name derives from the reddish color of the mountains at sunset.

I love my artful life. Just the other day my friend, Vera, invited Anna, Bill and me over for a spring afternoon potluck. She and Nickolas live one village down the mountain in Ojo Sarco. It was sunny and warm and, even more important, still. Not a breath of wind. We spent the entire day outside.