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Now I really want to live in the boonies!

If not now, when? She'll soon be off to Iowa to see what she can do in the land of her birth. (In case you're wondering, northern New Mexico isn't kind to newcomers who aren't self-employed, and that's more my game than hers.) Preliminary indications are that all sorts of happy surprises may await her there on the bluffs of Dubuque, overlooking the Mississippi ... Why, you can still buy houses there that cost less than German cars, so who can say what the future will bring? I just know it's a flat-out gas to see her picking up the scent. What happens down the road is up to God, my sweetie, and me, but this looks pretty good so far.

I'm staying here for now, myself. Whatever brought me West isn't finished with me yet, and I've also got a summer readings series to run for a local writers' group. Besides, without me there to tell her where I think the sofa should go or why that old cast-iron frying pan is good enough, she can set things up to suit herself (some in the audience will sympathize). And without her here to wince at how awful and rough the road is, I can find a house out with the coyotes. I mean, I'm getting awfully tired of sirens.

When we first moved out here, we rented an adobe cottage on the edge of the wilderness in a cloud-kissed mountain valley. Driving into Taos and back was something of an effort, but once we came home late and saw a dozen elk go charging through the snowdrifts as we drove up to the house. Another time I found a spot where a cougar had taken a coyote apart, just a few hundred yards from our back door. A bear visited the front yard one July. The hummingbird feeders drew swarms of birds, and a few would always make their way inside through the open, screenless windows. Holding a hummingbird in your hand is a lot like holding a moth: if it weren't for the tickling, you wouldn't think a thing was there.

When I stepped outside at night, I found the stars didn't twinkle, they strobed. You probably don't believe me, but it's true -- and when was the last time you looked at one so bright it hurt your eyes? That's what it's like at 8,000 feet in the clean dry air of el Norte. What's more the Milky Way goes all the way across the sky: up from one horizon, over your head, and down to the other side. Before I saw that miracle, the shape of our galaxy never made sense.

Living in the middle of town for the past year and a half has been fun too, for the most part. My favorite restaurant (also a bakery) is only a block away. Do you know how addicted you can become to fresh doughnuts and pastries only 90 seconds away on foot? My wife's favorite restaurant is just two blocks removed, in the other direction. Movies, concerts, bars, bookstores, post office, town hall, library, park, and dozens of gift stores only a short hike away. For the first time in our lives, we never have to get in the car and drive to look for Christmas presents. Heck, we even walk to the supermarket. It's noisy in town, though. You can't see the stars for the streetlights. And not being in touch with things like stars and hawks and hummingbirds can do a number on you.

I need to find a place to live, right? So Friday I found out there was a place just down the street, and at first it turned my head. Good Lord, it was actually cheap, for here at least. It seemed to have enough room. It reminded me of my graduate student days back in Austin, giving me a nice proud little nostalgic buzz. Wow, only two hundred yards from where we live now, I told myself, and I did need a place. Later when I took a closer look that should have gone before, I realized why it reminded me of being a graduate student: the joint was CRUMMY!

You should know that I actually rented the place before coming to that conclusion. Moving day is three weeks away, so I paid the man and decided to give it a go. You know what happened next: my gumption lasted a few pleasantly elevated hours and then I started seeing things. There's something about writing out a big check that does wonders for the eyesight, isn't that strange?

The blinds weren't beige, they were just filthy, and the kitchen was something only a student could love (or ignore). When I finally bent down to look at the baseboards in the one decent room, I realized they were just that, boards. The bedroom carpet wanted napalming. Hey, why wasn't the toilet flushing any better than that? And after a thorough pre-move inspection late Friday night, just when I thought I couldn't be any more depressed, I stepped out the front door and got stabbed in the eye by the awful glare of a thermonuclear street light. Aw, man. I wouldn't even be able to sit outside on a cool summer night without that freaking light in my face! It took me a whole day and a half to finally decide to kill the deal, so I can't claim credit for being smart right away. But boy, does it feel good not to be moving to that apartment.

Cheap isn't everything, and neither is "security." Something to think about the next time someone you know is tempted to buy a PC or make another soul-killing decision based on anxiety or cost. (Yeah, yeah) Anyway, you know what I did Saturday afternoon after I had the landlord tear up the check? To celebrate my narrow escape, I took the rest of the day off to drive 40 miles north and posted the following notice wherever I could:

¡WANTED TO RENT!

Mountain/mesa/forest home, small OK, must have electricity, phone, decent access. El Rito area, Lama, San Cristobal, or? Adobe, wood heat, bathtub a plus. Must allow cat.

Responsible mature tenant w/ Internet job and boonies experience willing to sign long lease for the right place. References available.

¡Viva la vida loca! And don't you forget it.

Senior Applelinks editor and columnist John H. Farr invites your emails.

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(Beautiful land for sale here: "What It Is About El Rito,")

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