I’ve been viewing the orange glow of New Mexican skies, the rust-colored rocks and red earth of the West, feeling the dry air graze my skin and wiping the dust off my boots. Our recent four-day trip to Santa Fe was filled with food, drinks and people, but mostly with that landscape — so unlike our East Coast surroundings. 

I’m not really a geographical vocabulary kind of person. I admit — guiltily — I often skim over the descriptions of scenery in a piece of writing, especially if I’m more interested in the plot or the facts being imparted. Oh, I can appreciate a beautiful turn of phrase and marvel at words that don’t come naturally to my lips or fingers — like “tundra” — but there is something about the West that evokes a different feeling in me — of vastness, of exoticism, of being away from familiar elements and plunged into new ones. It is the land of cracked clay, parched skin, scorching sun — passing clouds the only shade, if you’re lucky. Hiking high above the desert, I scan the solid blue expanse around me, thrilled to spy thin, white puffs hanging over the distant crags.

The arid landscape contrasts with the vibrant green of our East Coast trees, the cooling blue of our Atlantic ocean, the heavy air of our summer beach retreat. Santa Fe is dirt, dust, squinting. Hats and sunglasses are de rigueur in both places, but nothing short of essential in the West. They’re for survival. There’s a hardness and harshness to this beauty, the amber grasses, stubby shrubs and prickly cactuses. But there is hope, too. The infinite azure sky, the imposing, striated rocks exude a sense of possibility, of limitlessness, of spiritual wandering. Old souls, ancient earth.

After we return, I sit on our stamp of a brick patio, surveying the enclosed yard, inhaling the scent of newly seeded grass. I’m grateful for the Foster hollies that hold the birds and stand like sentries, shielding us from our neighbors on the other side of the fence. 

Green, green everywhere. I am back in the city, but feel comfort in this color of nature that exudes breath and life, that has been waiting to welcome me home.