One day in the summer of 1965 I was having coffee with three friends at the Three Cities of Spain restaurant on Canyon Road in Santa Fe. The conversation turned to art, and then to the artist Georgia O’Keeffe who, we knew, lived up near Abiquiu on Ghost Ranch. One of us, I don’t remember who, came up with the bright idea that we should drive up there and pay her a visit. The owner of the restaurant overheard what we were saying and came over to our table. Fortune seemed to smile, for he knew where Georgia lived and drew us a map of how to get there.
And so it came about, on that fine summer day, that we piled into a car and headed north with adventure thrilling in our veins. Fortune continued to smile—not only did we find Georgia at home, but she welcomed us in with a friendly smile and at once put us at our ease.
After a tour of her paintings and some works in progress, we took our seats and enjoyed an hour or so of affable and interesting conversation. At her suggestion, we then went outside where we could take in the views and chatted for another hour.
We took our leave with grateful thanks and headed back to Santa Fe, exuberant in the afterglow of two hours in the presence of Georgia O’Keeffe. She was 77 at the time; I, a lad of 22.
At age 94, speaking of the house near Abiquiu where she lived, and called Ghost Ranch, O’Keeffe said: “To me it is the best place in the world. It has always been secluded and solitary. When I first went there, it was only one house with one room—which had a ghost living in it.”
HyC