Land of Enchantment.

Once, 25 years ago, I choose Atlanta for my home with conviction.

Since then, I have chosen to live in Chicago and Washington, D.C., for work-related reasons. Sixteen years ago, I choose Atlanta again. Not for a love of the land, but for the love of a man.

But my spirit, my soul speaks to me of the Southwest, its voice growing more insistent with each passing year.

Specifically, my spirit speaks to me of New Mexico.

Of watermelon-hued desert vistas and vast cobalt blue skies punctuated by puffy clouds. Of Native traditions, of poetry and pinon trees. Of strings of chilies crinkling dry in the warm midday sun. Of sancutarios and milagros. Of beat-up trucks and lonesome two-lanes. Of chunks of turquoise and lengths of gleaming silver. Of arroyos, of pueblos and mesas. Of inky skies scattered with stars. Of cool nights and colorful woolen sweaters.

In a parallel universe, I am already there.

So, I was grateful to find a collection of essays--most written in the 1920s-1950s--from others similarly bewitched, The Spell of New Mexico, edited by Tony Hillerman.

It's no subsitute for New Mexico's red earth under my feet or its singular rhythms.

But its pages are filled with reveries from the likes of D.H. Lawrence and Ernie Pyle, capturing the state's lure. The words are a balm, even as they beckon me. I found myself savoring every word, nodding, even "yes, yesing" aloud.

The tug of the place is manifest. It is a deep and abiding love.

So, if you, too, are similarly transfixed by New Mexico, I suggest you, too, seek out this collection.