July 1905
Dear Sweet Honey Bun,
Next to a pile of dung smoking fire reaching higher to the Sky Mesa I camp waiting for the dawn to come once more. The trail to Santa Fe crosses this point not too far from this place. Yesterday where we crossed is the volcanic fields that flow farther than I can see. Some tell tales of tubes down there. I will not try my luck just to hide from this unrelenting sun and heat. I know there is water close to the mesa for I saw a native with a jar atop her head. I know not if it is more full of danger to try for water or not.
I learned some new tricks from one Hopi the other day. He showed me his garden in the midst of nowhere. The corn was almost ripe and he had beans and squash ready to pick. It seems he digs a small hole and puts in a fish, then on top of that he puts in one seed of corn one seed of bean and one squash seed. When it grows the corn is the pole for the beans and the squash shades the ground a bit to conserve the water that must be brought on the back of a mule from the rio.
I heard tell of them unraveling cloth in order to get some red thread. I bought some cochineal bugs from this trader to bring home to you that way you can dye some wool red. If it be not soon I will send them with old Niels when he passes through on his way back north on the Burr trail. Sometimes the wind blows the red as blood sand so high it is like I imagine a curtain of iron between me and you.
Love with all of my heart,
Elmer
(from the old trunk in a scap book) same below.
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