I love the smell of fresh dirt. The wind whips through my long ponytail. My blonde, tangled locks seem misplaced against the vibrant New Mexican sky. Blue sky, red Earth, the great wide open, barren plateaus, dancing Cholla, and stories of those who came before, give me reasons to adore this place. This is the place that I call my own. I was born and raised in a place which embodies the beauty of dirt.
•Diablo Canyon in Santa Fe, New Mexico•
If you didn’t know, 4-wheeling in not the Land of Enchantment, but this enchanted land is special. Those wheels afford you an unsoiled, yet soiled glimpse through natures looking glass. The ghosts of Diablo Canyon cast hazy red shadows when the sun sets. Then there are the stories. Today the canyon is used by thrill seekers to evoke hellish feelings. The jump is far. The climb is steep. These thrills aren’t for the weak.
Our ride on Sunday through Caja del Rio, past Diablo Canyon, to the Rio Grande River was beautiful. How quickly we forget the childhood feelings tied to our land and nature. When I was a young girl, I spent all my time on a 3-wheeler. My brother, sister and I explored together. Looking back, we learned together. While my brother and I sat along the bank of the Rio Grande on Sunday, we talked about those priceless days. (Read: Eat My Dust)
•Rio Grande River off Old Buckman Road in Santa Fe, New Mexico•
There is nothing like the smell of fresh dirt. I would never replace the feel of grit in teeth. The simplest of things can confirm you are home. I don’t mind when the New Mexico wind whips through my hair. It makes me feel alive. I was born and raised in a place which embodies the beauty of dirty skin and sacred land. It is here where I shall remain.