.....Advertisement.....
.....Advertisement.....

Today's Features

  • Summertime is the season that everyone waits for — it means warm weather, barbeques, and most importantly...no school! It means baseball games and swimming and fishing. It means happiness.

    This is the first summer I’m not completely busy. It’s the first summer in a few years that I’ll actually be here for the Fourth of July. Last year I was out of the country for the fourth, so the celebration meant nothing to the British people I was surrounded by. I was disappointed to have missed the fiestas, one of my favorite parts of summer.

  • The black locomotives of the first trains in New Mexico territory belched hot white steam into the tree-lined skies. The Mexican-American war had ended, had left deep distrust in the hearts of the territory citizens, many of whom had lost entire families in the bloody dispute. The largest city in the territory those days was Las Vegas, N.M., a bustling destination with a new depot on the railroad.

  • Two years ago, taggers hit the side of my garage that faces one of Las Vegas’ alleys, hit it with white aerosol spray in the shape of a Halloween ghost surrounded by bulging initials. It wasn’t the first time; black paint covered most of the space in a feeble attempt to cover a prior message. I gave up the ghost, left the imprint to bake in the sun.

  • The Tri-County Farmers’ Market opens for the season on Saturday, June 21. Many of the old faces will be there, with some new ones as well. Daniel Hern, president of the Farmers’ Market, said that several new farmers are participating, and that the Market is looking to expand its venue to include craftspeople and also bakers and others who will be selling processed food items.

  • A set of rustic chairs, His and Hers, each painted with the visage of artist Grant Wood’s famous coupling, “American Gothic,” rests in Carol Baldwin’s home art studio.

    The chairs seem to hold a conversation with one another, pitchforked farmer stern and willful against a quiet woman, her hair pulled back into a severe bun. A shorter chair watches the exchange. Painted with Wood’s depiction of adolescence, a pin-feathered chicken, it eyes the couple with one watery eye.

  • An deliberately uneven row of paintings hangs against a colorful marbleized wall; traditional representations of Native American women and children in ochre and green, fantastic pointillist pieces in shades of the rainbow, mixed media depictions of moving dancers, of ristras swinging from adobe porches.

    Neita Fran Ward stands in the doorway of her WarDancer Gallery’s door, eyeing the carefully chosen collection.

  • Peter Skelton points with pride to the many seedlings growing outside his greenhouse at Memorial Middle Schools. The seedlings, of concord grapes, and some special varieties of apple and apricot, have all been grafted onto hardy rootstock by his students.

    “We are researching which strains are appropriate for this bioregion,” Skelton said. “We are also using this to teach the students the differences between hybrids and clones.”

  • When I first heard of The Flying Star Caf,” it sounded like some sort of Chinese Buffet to me, so I agreed to go, even though I had no idea what it was.

    On this particular day, I am completely surprised when I walk in, because it is definitely not even close to a buffet.

    My eyes take in nothing but bright colors. An orange ceiling transforms into different shades of green, purple and yellow.

  • The summer before my sophomore year of high school was a summer of change and adventure. It might’ve seemed like an ordinary summer at the time, but looking back, I can clearly see that it was different. It was the summer the sixth Harry Potter book came out. It was the summer before my sister started college. It was the first summer I attended summer camp. It was the last summer I spent with my best friend before she moved to Texas.

  • A little brown dog lays in an astral bed, his twitching body on a mat covered in the word “bone,” one eye tipped toward heaven.

    A studded collar rings his neck, the studs echoing a cascade of colorful dots as if the dog sleeps in space, his body ringed with licks of fire. Artist Marcia Henning’s “Harpo Dreaming,” an acrylic on canvas painting, celebrates the life and hopeful afterlife of a dearly departed pet in her June exhibition at Traveler’s Cafe.