I was driving home from the airport late New Year’s Eve. A few miles from the Pueblo we could smell the smoke from what we assumed was a large fire. The route to our home goes through the eastern portion of the Pueblo. As we approached the Pueblo, we realized that the smoke was coming from scores of bonfires lit at the various residences. I wish I had a picture to show you. Most of the Jemez people we saw as we slowly drove by seemed to be dressed in their “ceremonial” clothing. There was no dancing, and the village actually seemed unusually quiet. The sight of perhaps one hundred different bonfires across the valley on a night with a billion stars twinkling is something I will never forget. The light from each fire accented the two to four Indians which surrounded each fire. There is something about man that loves the light of a fire. I thought about the fires on the ground, and the fires in the stars that cover the sky. There is a form of wisdom that comes, inescapably, from standing by your earthbound fire while looking at stars beyond counting. And this is magnified by seeing the hundred fires of your neighbors.
I wish there were words to describe a clear night sky at 7,000 feet elevation. As we are driving thorough the Pueblo, it hits me once again that I live in a place where man has not yet destroyed the night sky by pollution and puny electric bulbs. The loss of the night sky-it’s like a great book that has been pulled off the shelf.
I wish there were words to describe a clear night sky at 7,000 feet elevation. As we are driving thorough the Pueblo, it hits me once again that I live in a place where man has not yet destroyed the night sky by pollution and puny electric bulbs. The loss of the night sky-it’s like a great book that has been pulled off the shelf.