Pink quartz scattered at our feet, we walked up the rocky hill. Past the old tree house, criss crossing between junipers and piñons, we made our way through the golden autumn light. We had been on a hunt for piñon pine resin, or cured pine sap, found on the trunks of piñon trees, which we burn as incense. All the while gathering up the last bits of warm sun on our shoulders before the long winter in our little home in the Sangre de Cristos. Watching on our way for little sneaky prickly pears at our feet, I caught a glimpse of a round bronze shape in the sandy earth. Knowing that it looked surreptitious, I called for my children to come and uncover this treasure. I could hardly believe my eyes when we unearthed a dirt covered rusted old pocket watch. "A treasure, a treasure! A real treasure!" we squealed. As we brushed the thick layer of dirt covering its face, beautiful Roman numerals showed themselves against a perfectly white background and delicate gold scroll work, with "Sears" branding it's name. The hands and winding piece rusted in place, it was 9:47 when the clock stopped running. And on the back, a locomotive steam engine is engraved. Who are you old friend, we wondered? And, how did you get here? Where is your glass face that once covered your precious arms? Oh, the stories we did spin on that warm autumn day in old Santa Fe, tripping over pink quartz stones all the way home, with ponderosa pines towering over head, drunk from a wondrous and magical treasure hunt. If mysteries like this can still subsist, any fairy tale dream can come true, right? As for the tales we told that day, I'll save them for another time, and let you spin your own... You may also like my post The Pinon Pilgrimage
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