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  • Jennifer

...Navajo Turquoise "My Land of Enchantment"

During these deep, under water days of summer, my mind wanders – to places I’ve never been, to things I’ve never seen. This summer, I’m all about New Mexico. As I sit on my 10th floor terrace and gaze out at large, healthy green trees swaying in a warm New England wind – me just a New England woman lolling with her 10am cup of English tea and French croissant – I daydream of exotic adobe homes and turquoise jewelry. I ruminate on a world thousands of miles away from my own. Words like cactus, crystal, desert, Navajo, and serenity – that beautiful serenity – come to mind. These words don’t excite me like biting into a lively, bright green jalapeño pepper (immediately followed by a guzzling of milk). No, these words rest in my brain peacefully, calmly – as if I’m channeling an ancient Navajo spirit who wishes to see me wrapped in a blanket of zig-zag orange and red. The mythical desert encircles me in a hug.

I’ve loved New Mexico since I was a young girl. The confluence of three distinctly rich cultures – Spanish, Native American, and American – mesmerizes me. Even though it’s a landlocked state (something that would typically repel me), even though it shares far less of a border with its namesake country of Mexico than its sister state of Texas does – I love the enchantment of New Mexico. Its state motto of “Land of Enchantment” couldn’t be more fitting in my opinion.

Crave mystique? New Mexico has it in spades – or rather turquoise beads. Places like Santa Fe, Taos, the Georgia O’Keeffe House, the Navajo Indian reservation, and even the UFO sci-fi conspiracy theory extravaganza of Roswell all call my name. No, these places would more likely whisper. Will I ever make it to New Mexico? It exists only in my imagination – the rust of its soil, the sweaty sun-drenched toil that made this state into the beautiful, calm haven that it is today. New Mexico hums, vibrates – with artists, peace-loving spiritualists, newly minted democrats, and hard-boiled naturalists. Its promise is a small pink crystal, in a far-off cavern – tucked away all brilliantly from Carlsbad. I hope to make it to New Mexico. I whisper within myself –

“Release into ocean and swim: Victorian jewelry, New England butterflies, and Nutmeg perfume. Cross the earthy ocean and head west. Guided by midnight stars and covered wagons, I will catch up with you (someday)."

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