Lamy of Santa Fe

by Paul Horgan

From many a plains voyage Lamy had brought cuttings of fruit and shade trees and grape vines all the way in buckets of water, scarce as it was, to be planted on his arrival home. The garden was walled with adobes by his first French architects, who had crafted its main entrance out of native granite. There was a sparkling fountain, and a sundial stood on a pedestal of polished Santa Fe marble. Aisles of trees, plants, and arbors led to it from all quarters of the enclosure. Formal walks reached from one end of the garden to the other, with little bypaths turning aside among the flower beds and leading to benches cunningly placed in the shade from which Lamy and his visitors could see, on the high ground to the north and east, the old earthen battlements of Fort Marcy, and “the only brick and modern residence in the city, and a windmill, probably the only one in the territory.” To the west through the branches of his trees he could make out the long blue sweep of the Jemez Mountains. At the south end of the garden on its highest ground was a spring which fed a pond covering