postcard: Ruidoso, New Mexico
Opened the car door last night and pine trees flooded into the car. That's what the people in Ruidoso breathe all the time. Pine. The woman at the desk said the continental breakfast is good. You won't get no bagel with your cold cereal. This is eggs and bacon and pancakes. It's good. From Amarillo to Roswell gas stations were scarce, cars too. Hills rolled into mountains, flat road into valley, and the cottonwoods glittered in the sun and shed their down in the afternoon light. It was ridiculously beautiful. Thus, the scenic route signs appeared on cue. Today a life long dream: white sands. Too bad Romulus can't appreciate it. Wish you were here.
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