populated by mudslinging Black Panters*,

grew wetter as a belated [and welcome] rainy season moved in

with everyday showers

confining most afternoon walks to driveway, roads

or Interior Life…

Wednesday seldom-seen-son Bryan arrived after dark from Page, Az., only to be abandoned

by us the next day to take advantage of the cooler shopping weather in Pueblo [he didn’t seem to mind the time to lay back but the dogs were nervous].  We made our rounds,

tried Fritanga’s replacement Girasole – friendlier, but more that northern New Mexican reliance on cornstarch than F’s formerly intriguing Mexico, D.F. cuisine – for lunch, then

went south

into splats of rain on the interstate

to 69

and an afternoon deluge which

continued a ways up 620

but broke and even dried somewhat by home, where B. lent a welcome hand unloading. Dinner was ravioli from Gagliano’s but the next night it was burgers on the [failing] grill.

Saturday we all went to Gardner** for mail and the farmer’s market with

a Vintage Sighting…”Trump Pence” on the rear bumper, a nice dog within and a load of stuff

for us to bring back from the market.  Up on the mountain we made an afternoon walk

for dogs’ sake before

a last dinner; Marilyn’s pies – both meat and sweet – under threatening skies.

Sunday Bryan left early to visit Billy the Kid’s gravesite in Fort Sumner on his way to Lubbock and ultimately Killeen, Texas while we remained to see to some Sunday morning Libre business.

*Though not purebred flatcoats the Inkies nonetheless embody pretty much every trait of the breed.

**One should take what that Gardner entry says about “hippies” with a grain or so of salt, hey. But, WHATever…