Tamarac, Florida, and environs. Ibises here are like crows at home. Not nearly so numerous as crows, but perceived by locals in the same way: not exactly pests, city birds, and so commonplace as to be invisible. I love seeing them in the sky or on grass verges, with their wonderful curvy beaks, even if nobody else around bothers to see them at all.
When I'm not thinking about family stuff, my mind is not here at all, and not home either. The fire everyone in Santa Fe feared has begun, burning— as near as I can figure out— in the steep timber up above Rio en Medio and heading for the Pecos Wilderness. This was my backyard for 23 years. Here is how I think of it: a hike up Raven's Ridge in 2002. That was then. Now, oh now doesn't bear thinking about.