Things I Left at Home:
Perhaps this is why its not recommended to begin packing for a 6wk trip at 11 o'clock the night before you leave.
So here I am, sitting on a porch at the bottom of a canyon. Its kind of awesome. I've never been to a dessert and I must say, they're quite incredible. One of the most astonishing things is the silence. What I would hate in the campus woods at Maryville and in the Smokies, was that no matter where you go you can always hear cars and "civilization" and such. Here, there's nothing. The only thing I hear right now is a few crickets, a fly, and that eerie sound the wind sometimes makes that I love so much.
So far the weather has been good, but cold. When Danny, the farm owner, picked me up at the Durango Airport we still had a 3hr drive over the Rockies until we got to the farm. On the drive we went through a snow storm and two thunder storms. I was wearing shorts and flip-flops, but at least I looked adorable... cold and adorable. Apparently, there has been a lot of rain lately, so the canyon is much greener than I would have expected. Yesterday we went to a nearby lake/reservoir to swim and hike. It was too cold for me to want to swim, but I took a very long hike. I probably didn't cover very much ground, but I went up and down every bouldery formation I could find. My Chacos held up well as my inner Mountain Goat was satisfied.
Now I see three birds. And I hear an owl. And I've decided that fly might actually be a bee.
So here at Montezuma Ranch there's me, Danny, a guy from South Carolina, A guy from Utah, four British people, a French guy, and two dogs. Although I don't know for sure, I'm fairly certain that Danny comes from some serious money. He's mentioned that his grandfather was an ex-VP of American Airlines and his dad is an investment banker who raised Polo horses for fun. He basically went to college in Santa Cruz, went to LA to work in television for a while, hated it, so he bought some land in Utah and started a vineyard. The vineyard definitely does well, but I can't see how he was able to start from nothing without some serious financial help.
Now there's a flock of small birds (sparrows maybe) and that "fly" was definitely a bee.
In conclusion, I'm working on a farm in a canyon until July 2nd, which is owned by 27yr old, probably rich, hippie. Beer is drunk at an alarming, although not surprising rate, and usually it can be guaranteed that at least two of the many people living here are stoned. Right now, life is very satisfying.