Now and with this point, this is called "Afternoon in Yootó".
And Yootó is the Navajo name for Santa Fe.
It means beads of water or necklace of water.
"Afternoon in Yootó.
The Santa Fe afternoon is warm and bright,
the dogs are delirious to be outdoors,
they prance about panting loudly.
Simmer down guys, I say.
They don't have to wear jackets today.
Once my husband said they were embarrassed to wear jackets.
I never saw a dog embarrassed, I said.
He just smiled.
A few months ago on another warm afternoon,
my mother sat on the comfortable old couch
in the front of the wood stove.
The stove is in the center of the house
and the room is dim and cool.
After straightening the kitchen, I sat beside her.
I said, leaning against her, meaning, talk to me,
tell me stories, tell me what's going on.
T'áá 'ákódí, she said.
That's all.
And we both laughed.
I adjust the pillow behind her head, she lean back.
I slipped my hand into hers and leaned on her shoulder.
Her hands are warm and thin.
Unlike mine, she has thin elegant fingers.
She patted my hand and we were silent.
We were alone in the quiet house.
Across the road, a cow bellowed.
And somewhere by the wash, dogs were barking playfully.
One sounded like a puppy.
Here in the living room, we rested and closed our eyes.
Then she said, with her eyes still closed, let's sing.
So I started a song and she joined in.
I sang close to her so she could hear.
We sang several songs, then she started one and I was quiet.
I don't know that one, I said.
After, she opened her eyes and looked at me, you do, she said.
One time I heard you singing it.
She kept on singing, and after a while, I got it and finished.
Waaa, she said, like she was tired.
She fell asleep.
I kept holding her hand and leaning on her.
I wanted to sleep but couldn't.
It seemed like there was too much going on,
but it was just she and I sitting together
on a late summer afternoon.
Her cat kitty bar jumped on the couch
and stretched out beside us.
It seemed that kitty bar and mom always
snapped at the same time.
Today in Yootó, there is snow on the highest peaks of the Sengri
de Cristos, the mountain of the blood of Christ.
The bright snow is startling against the deep blue sky.
It's warm enough to use the screen door.
The afternoon slants into the kitchen in thin lines.
The dogs sleep on the warm tile squares.
It's afternoon, it's mid October in Yootó,
where beads of clear cold water form an ancient necklace that
encircle the Sengri de Cristos.
Ahéheeʼ.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]