Summer Rituals

We've been spending summers in Taos now for five years--long enough to count our favorite repeated activities as rituals, most of which involve these chairs:The first rite of summer is the July 4th parade in Arroyo Seco. This is the event for left-leaning, free-spirited, environmentally-aware locals (and a few tourists) who like a dose of politics with their patriotism. In 2004 we saw Rumsfeld in an orange prison jumpsuit and ankle chains carrying a placard declaring himself to be a war criminal. This year everyone cheered as the Obamamobile drove by, with big-headed Barack waving at the crowd. We try to arrive early enough to set up our chairs in a prime viewing spot, but the downside is that we then become targets for all those squirt gun-bearing kids on the floats.

Ritual number two is the Santa Fe Wine Festival on the grounds of El Rancho de las Golondrinas south of town. We leave our chairs at home for this event; the only time we sit down is to have lunch under the big tent. We were very disappointed this year to find that our favorite green chile cheeseburger booth was missing in action and had to console ourselves with big gulps of Ponderosa Winery's Redondo Red.

The next big event--my favorite--is the Taos Pow Wow. This is a major gathering of Indian nations: Pueblo, Navajo, Hopi, Zuni, Apache, Lakota, Mandan, Cheyenne, and Ute. The governor of the Taos Pueblo always makes a moving speech about our shared responsibility to care for Mother Earth, then gives a blessing in the Tewa language. Next, the master of ceremonies introduces the dancers as they enter the arena and move in a circle to the mesmerizing drumbeat, and the audience is asked to remove their hats as a sign of respect. We stand under the shady ramada crafted from willow branches (taos is the Tewa word for red willow) and watch the dancers, trying to guess which ones will win cash prizes for their costumes. During a pause in the proceedings we rush to one of the food booths to get our yearly fix of Navajo fry bread. As the July sun beats relentlessly down on our bare heads, we promise ourselves that next year we'll arrive in time to set up our chairs under the ramada.

The final chair-toting ritual is the chile cook-off in Red River. This event is a bittersweet one; it's held in mid-August on the weekend before our return to Real Life, and we're always a little melancholy as we scarf down our green, red, bison, oryx, elk, and Jack Daniels-infused chile samples.

All of these rituals (not to mention margaritas on the deck, two or three hikes up to Williams Lake, and morning walks on Mesa Sea) are what make summer in Taos so enjoyable, and knowing that we'll be doing the same things next year sustains us through the horrendous northern winter months.