A New Life ON THE RIO GRANDE

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My half acre is on a high desert mesa in northern New Mexico, 21 miles from the nearest "real" town. It sits above a shallow arroyo on the east side of a soft slope, where sparse sagebrush, thin native grass, black pockmarked volcanic rock and minuscule wildflowers dot the landscape. From my yurt, I have a breathtaking view of a 100-mile stretch of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, just below the Colorado border. The Rio Grande Gorge snakes between my mesa and the peaks. The earth under my feet is a powdery mix of adobe and sand; I am told I can seed it into a rough pasture by using a variety of tough drought-resistant native grasses and getting rid of the sagebrush.

Piers posts and floor joists

Every morning I watch the sun creep slowly over die peaks, burning off the chill of night. At sunset, a golden fight etches the sagebrush in high relief, as lengthening shadows envelop the mountains in pinks and then purples, earning them die name "The Blood of Christ Mountains." When night falls, there are no artificial lights to dim the millions of stars; Orion is right overhead. I understand now why the Native Americans thought the night sky to be a giant bowl. Sometimes as I bump home on my dirt road during the full moon, I turn off my headlights and ghost across the mesa, scaring up jack-rabbits along the way.

I remember how much time I spent racking my brain about how I could get onto this land once I owned it. I looked at every imaginable kind of housing option—from straw-bale to earthship to conventional stick-frame-but I would not have gotten so much as a roof on one of these structures with the money I had. I imagine I could have built something over a period of ten years, but I did not want a mortgage and I wanted to move in within a year. Considering my circumstances, a yurt seemed the only choice.

One of the most inexpensive, quick to-build, modest and sturdy structures a body can use for shelter, a yurt is the most comfortable way that you can be close to nature and at the same time build a meaningful relationship with your land. inside my yurt, I can be warm and cozy and protected from the elements while I listen to the beating wings of migrating sandhill cranes passing overhead.

Acquiring the Land

I found my half acre of paradise through an ad in the classified section of my local paper. it said: "Quarter acres of land for sale: $250." I couldn't believe land could be so inexpensive, so I called, The woman who answered gave me the description of the land for sale and told me she had bought it at the last tax auction in order to sell it for profit. I checked the deeds in the county court house and learned she was indeed the only owner on record. I had no idea what a "unit," "block" or "lot number" was, but I was determined to find out. I went to the county planning department, where for under $10 I purchased a topographic map of the 100-square-mile area and a xerox of tile actual subdivision survey map I also purchased a USGS topographic map of the same area for around $15.

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