I am such a person of the seasons that every time I hear Vivaldi's Four Seasons I marvel at how he captured nature and man's reaction to it.

I love Northern New Mexico because here we often get a real blast of our four seasons. From the bitter -21 F we suffered recently to the current blasts of wind gusts that sounded as if they were threatening to tear our roofs off their moorings, New Mexico, like our history, is not for sissies.

Yet at the same time, we seemed to be blessed that we rarely suffer from tornadoes, earthquakes and floods, although we have had them in our history. For me, our four sometimes harsh seasons result in días de más y días de menos (days of plenty and days of scarcity). We may in fact be facing drought once again this year with wildfires so far outpacing last year's toll.

But since when is spring, despite the blossoms, ever tranquil? It's a time of deep contemplation: Plant life is struggling to make its presence; recent blossoms are threatened by an early death in the form of a freeze. Yet all is natural like our lives. The lessons of how to live our lives are right outside our door. We can't fight nature. Some plants, trees or vines may have not survived the -21 F temperature. Others will be afflicted as with a cancer by borers, blights, etc.

Yet I contemplate our root stock: We have been on this beautiful yet harsh land more than 400 years, and our parientes, the Indians, as we used to say in the '50s, much longer than that. But we survived not by accident. Both peoples learned not only to coexist but also to learn from each other. Our documents are full of references as to how we formed strong alliances to defeat our common enemies.

We learned from the Spanish and the Moors how to extend our ditches and aqueducts to bring precious water to our gardens and our fields. We learned how to dig "norias" or "pozos" as wells are called in Spain. We took indigenous plants and turned them into medicine, remedies, poultices. Herbs seasoned our food and salt preserved and cured our meats.

Yet every day becomes more modern with every spring and we fail to realize how precarious and precious one's existence is as we fill our high mountain plateaus with golf courses, developments and casinos. It's as if we have not learned a single lesson from our history of survival in this beautiful but harsh land.

In Spain there is a province called Extremadura, land of extremes. It is made up of high plains, mountains and broad rivers and, as a saying goes that was brought by the Spanish to New Mexico in 1598 when they underwent a minor ice age at San Juan de Los Caballeros, now known as Okeh Owingeh: "Nueve de invierno, y tres de inferno." Loosely translated, it means nine months of winter and three of hell.

Despite all this, Extremadura is one of the most astonishing provinces of Spain. The original Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe can be found in a precious mountain village called Guadalupe. As you enter the town, an impressive castle sits atop a hill to your right. The monastery in this town is amazing, and the town is a hidden gem. Extremadura also boasts Mérida, a city where Roman generals retired. Its Roman ruins rival anything I've seen in Italy. In Extremadura you can also explore the town of Trujillo, where you actually think you've stepped back to the Middle Ages. Cáceres is just as appealing, and both places offer the cuisine unique to Extremadura, and of great surprise, wines that never make it across the Atlantic, yet are a joy to discover. The village of Coria with its tree-lined broad river banks offers a seasonal cabrito over the grill and other foods while enjoying the river scene that adds great joy to the weary traveler.

What I'm getting at is that just like our Hispano penitents are getting ready for one of the most sacred seasons, so are the penitents of Sevilla and other parts of Spain. There is a reason our genetic stock took to this land so similar to Extremadura. Many of our people came from there. We not only brought grapes, apples, peaches, apricots, iron, books, horses, goats, cattle, etc., but the faith of our ancestors. It was this faith that was the most important thing that helped us survive in this land of extremes.

As I read historical documents, I am convinced that without this faith, most colonists would have abandoned El Reino de Nuevo Méjico. I think it is important to remember this fact as thousands of pilgrims make their way to the Santuario de Chimayó during Holy Week.

Writer/historian Orlando Romero may be reached at nambe1@aol.com.