Last week I found a blue door while driving through a small town that lays on a stretch of road that, given enough time, connects El Paso, to the south, to Las Cruces, to the north, through an agricultural basin known as the upper valley. The blue door sits in a portal of a small white adobe structure on NM 28 in Chamberino, a tiny, old town surrounded by fields that drink from the muddy brown waters of the Rio Grande. The land that follows this part of the Rio Grande, to differentiate it from the lower valley, has come to be known as the upper valley, a green ribbon of irrigated fields laying in the middle of the desert that takes advantage of the sunny disposition of this part of the country. At first I raced past the white adobe house paying it no particular attention until the façade was interrupted by a window of flowers surrounded by blue. I u-turned and went back, not exactly sure of what I had seen, but curious because it stood in stark contrast to everything that surrounded it. There in the middle of a white stucco wall was a blue door with flowers pressed against a variegated window. The blue door appeared as though it no longer functioned as a door, opening and closing to let something in or out, seemingly stuck in place and time like most of the inhabitants in this part of the dusty world. No longer functioning as a door it still has purpose, perhaps greater now than in former times, it has become art in a place where you would not necessarily expect to find art. Serendipitous for sure, pedestrian probably, but appreciated none the less.
Chamberino, as most of the little towns along 28, is not a place you would consider a destination, but rather a place to go through on your way to someplace else. NM 28 represents the back way between El Paso and Las Cruces, the front way being the I-10 corridor that races at 75 mph between the two cities, and if you’re in a hurry it’s not the way you want to go. It’s a pity to rush through these little towns and miss everything that is unique about the old route when you could simply fly down I-10 and get from A to B much quicker. And it’s a pity because I’m sure if I took the time and looked I’d find a lot more things becoming art in Chamberino and the other small towns whose names more than hint at the art and culture that permeate the area, Santa Teresa and Canutillo, La Union, La Mesa, and La Mesilla. In fact, after learning the quick lesson of the blue door I found myself looking forward to each little town, each having a character unique to itself, setting it apart from the others, but maintaining the simple agrarian quality that defines much of what lies in the upper valley.
The valley is beautiful, not majestic like the Grand Canyon or the Rocky Mountains, though the southernmost chain of the Rockies is what defines this as a valley, but quieter, understated, whose deep green fields belie the dry, thirsty desert that surrounds them. The land in the upper valley is cared for, cultivated, planted, given water. Too often we look past things of beauty like this, taking it all for granted, in a hurry to get to a destination in our lives like becoming grown up, or getting married, or having children, or becoming president of the company while altoghether ignoring the journey to get to where ever it is we think we want to be. When I slow down and enjoy the entire experience of traveling to a place, whether temporally or spiritually, I appreciate the getting there more than the being there; the journey, and those who journey with me, is what I remember most. Then I find blue doors everywhere I look.
