A Red River Rush Hour

Rush hour . . . through the bedroom door, across the living room, grabbing a cup of coffee, and out to the porch. That's the morning rush hour that's been on my mind the last couple of days as I've researched an article for our employee newsletter. Our firm owns a couple of cabins in Red River, New Mexico, and for the last 2-3 days, I've been reading through the notebooks left in the cabins for the last 30+ years for guests to sign and make comments (I'll post some later).

We stayed in Red River a couple of years ago and have requested one of the cabins for a week this summer. If I read one more page of fire-in-the-fireplace-30-degrees-in-the-morning-hiking-up-to-the-lake-touring-Taos-and-Santa-Fe-feeding-the-chipmunks-watching-the-hummingbirds-fishing-in-the-creek-behind-the-cabin-snow-in-the-mountains-Jeep-tours-horseback-rides-tops-of-mountains-ski-lifts-wildflowers-cutting-wood-sleeping-soundly-in-mountain-air-doing-nothing, I'm heading west tomorrow.

Here's Kim and me on the front porch of the newer cabin in 2006: