It’s breezy in Nageezi, down a lonely, dusty road. Ancient Great Houses anchored to the earth, resting under blankets of sand and sage. They count the millennia as the earth breathes up a dust devil.
Celestial compasses tuned to the passage of time; counting seasons – sunrise, sunset, moonrise, moonset. Globemallow and yucca bloom as they colonize the landscape. A Solstice spiral sundagger marks the middle of time, of the year, of everything.
The Ancient Ones are still there. Do you feel the cool breath of wind entering the Great Kiva of Casa Rinconada? Do you see the council fires on the North and South Mesas? Can you hear and feel the rhythm of the drums? Do you see the turkeys strutting around the courtyard, always underfoot? Do you hear the echoing voices of the children on the cliff above Pueblo Bonito? Can you smell the warm scent of cornmeal, simmering in clay pots over open fires? Can you spot distant travelers walking on the Great Road to Chaco, coming to trade and rest? Pottery sherds marking their way, dust rising behind them. Turkey vultures soaring on thermals above.
Just another day at Chaco, in breezy Nageezi.
Tiffany Mapel
Durango
