The sun woke me on time for a shower before breakfast at Ghost Ranch. Now that I had some rest and sunlight, I found all the things I needed in the night: extra blankets, the box of kleenex, and toilets. The full effects of the cold had hit me, but I was determined to enjoy another beautiful New Mexico day. I headed for the dining hall on the complex for the breakfast that was included in my stay. Once a working ranch, Ghost Ranch is a now a Presbyterian retreat house. I joined a number of gray-haired retreatants for a cafeteria-style breakfast which included (to my virus-addled delight) an oatmeal bar, complete with bubbling cauldron and a variety of fruits and nuts. I selected heartily and joined a small table of women volunteers at the ranch. We soon discovered that what we had in common was Philadelphia, where many of them had spent much of their lives and I spent grad school. We chatted about my time there, juggling Penn and caregiving. They were all staff on the ranch, where they live for a year while providing services and hospitality to the ranch and community surrounding it.
Following breakfast, I checked out of my room and headed back with my computer to the fireplace in the dining hall to write. That was very pleasant, and I finished up just as the lunch serving began. I had taken something I found in the Trading Post for the cold symptoms, but I was still feeling pretty sick. However, I
was determined to enjoy some of the easy hikes along the ranch. 
I wandered into the Ghost House before heading to the Pack Memorial. The Pack family owned the ranch in the early part of the 20th century, and hosted Georgia O’Keefe on some of her visits to what she called The Faraway, before selling her seven acres of the ranch to make a permanent home. In the 1950’s they donated the ranch to the Presbyterian Church for this facility. More than anything, the place reminded me of the f
ormer orphanage where I did my preparation course for mission work in East Africa back in the early 1990’s. The facilities, while grand, are a lot for a non-profit to maintain. They depend on volunteer labor to do it. Buildings are re-purposed to meet the current need, and in this case, the cold was pervasive and fires a welcome respite from it.
I meandered through the site
and despite my sneezing and shivering, I could appreciate the beauty of the area. Today was my day of retreat from the world, and the folks at Ghost Ranch left me to that. I followed their little map around the compound enjoying the sunshine. 
Without my realizing it, I had become absorbed in the now. Issues at home had stopped playing out in my head. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the mud wrap, maybe it was the beauty around me, but I slowly became aware that I was not thinking about my normal life anymore. This is the point in the vacation where I know that the break is working. My energy is being spent on the now rather than on past or future. I had finally gotten there.
I went to the labyrinth and walked through it, then headed for the zen garden. I found no answers to any concerns there, but as I wandered through the labyrinth,
I was reminded again that life is about the circuitous route, that it is rarely a direct path. Rather an obvious point, 
but then I was not looking for a major revelation. It was time to go and explore more of the area. I had a boxed lunch, took some final photos, and headed out into the Faraway.
My next stop was the Monastery of Christ in the Desert, a Benedictine retreat center that was fully booked this week. On the main highway, it was not far from Ghost Ranch, but once one is off the main highway, there are 13 miles of unpaved road to navigate. Because of the terrain, I could only manage about 25 miles an hour, so 
the trip in and out was an hour long commitment. Still, as the labyrinth reminded me, it was the wandering journey that matters, not the destination, so I headed up US Forest Service Road 151 admiring the beauty along the way.
I shared the road with nobody, and had no idea what to expect when I got there. My only concern was being back on the highway before dark, which would begin its descent around 5:15 pm.
I reached the monastery. The monks advised that guests should park well outside the compound and, initially, I attempted to comply. However, as I headed up the long walk to the chapel and gift shop, I realized that I did not have the stamina to make the hike. I thought about turning back for the highway without visiting, then decided to be defiant, and drove into the compound. I parked in the parking designated for handicapped–there was nobody else there–and headed into the gift shop. A solitary monk sat quietly in a chair while a couple 
wandered through considering the goods available. I joined them and discovered that the monks have founded, among other projects, an effort to raise pups on a raw diet. This effort is named for St. Francis of Assisi, and I considered purchasing some cards with photos of the once-abandoned pups and the Prayer of St. Francis, to support the effort. I also found an interesting Nativity wall hanging, but the price was 
missing. When I approached the attendant monk to inquire, he informed me that I needed to handle the commerce on my own. There is no tax, so one puts the money in the basket available and takes the item.
Since I did not know what to pay, I put the item back, and headed 
out of the shop. I was disappointed to find that the chapel was closed. I took more photos and headed back up the road, admiring the beauty along the way.
I made it back to the main road before sunset, so I headed for the Echo Amphitheater, a natural rock formation that is shaped like an amphitheater. It was 
strangely abandoned there and the sunset was starting. My guide had advised that the light was beautiful there that time of day, but I am less certain that it is the best light.
The temps had dropped dramatically at this point, and I was sneezing and shivering. Before I left the area, I hoped to see some of Abiquiu itself. I headed up the highway hoping to get there before dark.
I arrived in the center of the town at sunset. The local parish church, San Tomas el Apostel, faces the library, which doubles as a cultural center. 
The library was still open, so I stopped in, but it had little to offer at this point in the day. I took my photos of the downtown before stopping at Bodes, a 
dry goods store that has been selling goods in the area for ages, and is an institution. In addition to gas, Bodes offers cooked lunch, dry goods, and will host a wine and book signing this weekend. 
It proved to be the finale of my visit to Abiquiu. I tried to find my way to a lavender farm, but it was dark, and I nearly hit a sleeping dog. I headed back to Taos.
I reached the Taos Inn in time to swim, but by this time my sneezing had expanded to include coughing. I was escorted to my lovely room by a concerned member of staff who advised me to drink plenty of water and rest. I had hoped to get another two work outs in during this stay, but I stretched my tired self across the bed and slept soundly for two hours. I had spoiled myself with a fireplace room this time around, so I forced myself up and lit the fire as I planned for the coming day and hoped for an end to the cold symptoms. Again, I slept.