Tonight is one of those nights that I associate with New Mexico. An Armada of overfed clouds, clumsily and with an air of exhaustion, make their way over the mountains that lie to the north of Santa Fe. And like the Armada, they invade the tranquility and calm that fed the town throughout the day. In the distance, from one of these clouds dazzled in greys, violets and anything in between, a bolt of lighting is born. There is no sound.
Lighting reminds me of that time when we were out in the country riding horses and all of a sudden a storm broke out. The clouds that had been grazing in the distance, having overtaken us, pommelled us with their might. “Hold on tight!” she said to me as we began to gallop and I pressed my arms as tightly as I could around her waist. And I buried my face in her back, in order to prevent myself from breaking out in a fit of lunacy from the impression the warm drops of rain were making on my face. For a moment I thought I would fall off, that I would roll on the ground and not until I were covered in mud, would I come to a stand still. I’d then begin to laugh and rush into the woods, where I knew for a fact leprechauns lived and upon seeing me would play with me.
Lightning reminds me of when we were making our way back from the natural springs at Ojo Caliente. The sun was already setting and the vast emptiness, the expansive streches of land that dot this place were witnessing the creativity of nature unfold through a medley of wind, lightning and an intoxicating smell of dust infused with rain. And we were there to witness it, of no importance that our intrusion did not prevent this orchestration of nature’s wonder.