The silence of the place is unnerving. That echo you hear is the sound of blood pumping through your own temples. But if you are patient, you become gradually aware of the way juniper trees speak to the rock, how the wind whispers to the canyon walls and sunlight dances on yucca plants and sage.
We were cognizant to all of the natural wonders and beauty of the ruins. I had never been so impressed by an act of nature. In this desert of mystery and mysticism, it felt as if an ancient Anasazi God had been watching over us. Above, ravens arced across the sky whispering amongst themselves the secrets of millenniums long since passed… "Like a Blessing" I thought, "Like a gift".
Taos Pueblo has been inhabited for at least a thousand years. The adobe architecture seems to spring, organic, from the earth at the foot of Taos Mountain. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site, but a living community, not a museum.
A small stream runs through the heart of the Pueblo, known as Red Willow Creek or Rio Pueblo de Taos. The stream begins high in the Sangre de Cristo mountains, at the tribe’s sacred lake, Blue Lake. A traditional belief among the Taos Pueblo people is that their ancestors originated from the waters of this lake and they refer to themselves as the Red Willow People. The creek flows gently through the Pueblo. It provides the water essential for life here: drinking, cooking, bathing and for religious activities. Even in the depths of winter, which is harsh at this height above sea level, it never completely freezes.
We set out on Tre Cime di Lavaredo
Annual "Art of the State"
A feast for the eyes and the emotions; winners announced.
