Snow. Desert. Seed Library.

On the trail and on the ropes at the Randall Davey House

The year I left my job at Audible, it was Christmas and it was a shock. I mean, if I hadn’t left, I would’ve never had the nerve or time to start this Journal— but I didn’t know that at the time.

For the first time in 22 years, I wasn’t at the ole’ “beck and call,” and I wanted a geographic shock treatment. I wanted to feel a new beginning in my bones.

I left my coastal California and flew to the high desert, Santa Fe, where there was snow on the ground and brilliant white sun on the peaks.

My favorite solitary day was my visit to the Audubon Society sanctuary. It is a place devoted to birding, built at the site of the old Randall Davey home, whose family bequeathed his lands and home to the Society.

I took a short but very slow hike. The trick is to be as still as possible, binos in hand.

And at the end, there is . . . what shall I call it? . . . an avant-garde jungle gym.

Sheer luck, I had it all to myself in the early winter morning.

Everyone needs a day, or two, or three, like th…