Buffalo Kaplinski, the Santa Fe artist,
captured the magic of the West, the almost-
dark sky with distant fencing stretching forever–
purples and lavenders and indigo blues–
rounded adobe growing out of pure snow.

I breathed it in like pure oxygen.

The watercolors with their simple, pure lines,
embodied the freedom of the West.
I wanted to take them home.
My young husband wanted a bargain
more than the paintings.

Did I set a precedent when I took out my checkbook
and wrote a check, the first inkling of finding
my own way?  He couldn’t envision I could stand
on my own.