Spring is a happy, joyous time for the people of Cliff Palace and there is much laughter and gaiety in the great cave. The bleak, uncomfortable winter is over; there is a feeling of freedom and broken bonds. Everything in nature indicates that a new year and new life are beginning and the people respond just as do the animals and plants.

The winter that is ending has been cold and even though the people became accustomed to it there was suffering and sadness. Many of the older people who were afflicted with rheumatism and arthritis suffered terribly and the children developed colds and other diseases against which the medicine men were powerless. Several deaths occurred in Cliff Palace last winter and there was sadness and fear in the cave city. These misfortunes were caused by witches, who are evil human beings with only one desire—to injure and destroy the people. Winter is the season when witches are most active so it is a time of fear and dread for the inhabitants of the town.

Now spring is here and the people are gay and lighthearted. Spring is ever a happy time for farmers for the miracle of new life never loses its thrill. Spring, the season of new life; summer, the season of growth and development; autumn, the season of ripening and harvest; winter, the season of suffering, death and sorrow. Then spring comes again and the eternal cycle has another joyous beginning.

In March the sun begins to be warm. During the morning, while still in the shadow, the cave is cold but in the afternoon when the sun creeps in, it is very pleasant. Some days the sun is actually hot as it beats into the sheltered cave. Chipmunks and squirrels, even the lizards, come out of hibernation to sun themselves on the warm rocks. The Indians do likewise.

As the sun begins to climb into the cave each afternoon the people come out to meet it. Uncomfortable winter clothing is thrown aside and soon most of the inhabitants of the cave are sunning themselves on the front terraces. Everyone is happy. 40 There is much laughter and boisterous shouting. The aged men and women bring their rheumatic bones out into the warm sunlight and immediately feel new life. Gaunt old men, whose creaking joints have not climbed the cliff trails for years, get a new gleam in their eyes as they vow they will raise a crop of corn this summer. Aged women begin to twist their gnarled fingers as they dream of making pottery again.

The able-bodied men sit in small groups, dreaming and talking of the planting time that is coming. Wrinkled old priests assure them that it will be a fine season. All signs are right; the gods are smiling on their people. The women think of new pottery they must make, repairs they plan for their houses, and marriages they must arrange for their daughters. Young wives, in whom romance has not been dulled by too many children, playfully comb the lice from their husbands’ heads and dream of babies soon to come. Spring is a fine time for that.

Here and there young unmarried men lean against the walls, presumably dozing in the sun. But they are the busiest of all. Each one is endeavoring to catch the eye of some dusky young maiden whose full-rounded curves are causing her mother to think of a son-in-law. The young man’s eyes seldom connect; the ever vigilant eyes of mothers and aunts come between.

The really active members of the populace are the children. Some play on the trash pile in front of the cave; others scramble over the boulders that litter the slope below. Their rich brown skins flash in the sun as they endeavor to make up in one afternoon for all of the cold inactivity of the winter. Their shouts and laughter are mingled with the barking of their dogs and the gobbling of the turkeys they are disturbing. During the winter the turkeys stayed close to the cave but now they are scattered over the slope, nipping off the early buds and searching for the first insects of spring.

Not every March day is warm: some are blustery with the changeable weather of spring. A clear blue sky turns black in only a few minutes and heavy wet snow swirls into the canyons. The snow soon changes to rain, then a cool breeze swings down from the north and the rain becomes icy pellets of sleet. In a few minutes the clouds blow away and the warm sun shines again on a dripping, steaming world. Sometimes during the night, warm, wet snow falls, snow so heavy that its weight snaps limbs from the trees. The warm rocks and the bright sun melt it rapidly and often there is a roaring waterfall over the front of Cliff Palace cave as the water rushes off the mesa top.
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Life in a cliff dwelling. Museum diorama of Spruce Tree House
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The weather grows steadily warmer and winter is left behind. There is much activity in the city. Everyone is up at sunrise and the work of the day is immediately started. After several hours of work, breakfast is eaten late in the morning, then the activities are resumed. The second and last meal of the day, an early supper, brings an end to the day’s activities.

During the winter the cave became damp and musty; everything needs to be aired out. Clothing, blankets, robes and floor mats are spread out on the terraces and roofs to bake in the sun. The women tie small bunches of stiff grass with cords and with these brush-like brooms sweep the houses and courtyards thoroughly. Trash is swept into the back of the cave where the turkeys roost or out on the ever-growing trash pile which slides far down the slope in front.

Even the kivas, the underground ceremonial rooms, are cleaned and the walls are replastered to hide the soot that has accumulated. The men do some of the cleaning but women are often invited to help, especially with the plastering. It is considered a great honor for a woman to be chosen to plaster a kiva.

A major part of the spring work is the repairing of houses. It is work that never seems to end for repairs and alterations are always in progress in some part of the city except in the winter when it is too cold. Spring is the best time for the repair work as there is an abundance of water for the mortar and the home owners are filled with a desire to build and improve. Cracks are merely filled with mud and small chinking stones. Sometimes a small section of wall has bulged dangerously and must be replaced. Often the walls have been built on a foundation of loose trash and as a result, settle until they are in danger of falling. Such walls, sometimes entire rooms, must be torn down and rebuilt. Sometimes a house is deserted by its owners for some reason and gradually goes to ruin. As it crumbles the stones and the roof poles are used in the repairing or building of other houses. It is an endless cycle, this building and repairing of houses, and all stages of it can be seen in the town almost any time.
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Most of the repair work is done by the women for the houses belong to them. When there is heavy work, new poles to cut or new stones to shape, the men help but even then the women supervise.

Very often, as is true among all people, the women change the decorations of their houses. A new whim stirs the housewife’s imagination and in an hour’s time the entire scheme is changed. The husband never knows what to expect when he returns from a day in the fields. Decorations are easily applied for they consist of thin layers of clay mud, spread on the walls with the hands. Sometimes the entire house is smoothly plastered with red, yellow, grey, brown or white clay. Other houses are plastered only on the outside; some only on the inside. Here is a house that is plastered half-way down from the ceiling; next door is one that is plastered half-way up from the floor.

Many of the walls are decorated with bright paintings. Red ochre makes a rich red plaster, while up on the mesa top is a layer of clay that gives a clean chalky-white color. When the two are combined, the effect is striking. Most of the paintings are small; the picture of an animal, a geometric design or perhaps just a band of color across a wall. In the center of Cliff Palace is a house that has a row of nine, bright red hands painted above the door. The woman who lives there placed her left hand on the wall and traced it nine times. Then she filled in the outlines with red ochre to produce the odd decoration.

Near the south end of the town is the most beautifully decorated house of all. It is the third-floor room of the great four-story tower, the tallest structure in the cave. The young lady who lives there is very artistic and all four inside walls are beautifully painted in red and white. The lower half of the walls she painted with red ochre. The upper half she covered with the chalky-white clay. Where the two bands of color came together she painted large red triangles in groups of three. Thus the edge of the red border consists of three triangles, or peaks, then a straight line, three more triangles, and so on around the room. On the white upper portions of the walls are geometric designs painted in red; parallel straight lines, parallel zigzag lines and parallel fringed lines.
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The painting was cleverly done and the final effect is strikingly beautiful. The young woman is artistic in everything she does. Her pottery designs are the best in the city and she even wears her little yucca-string skirt at an artistically rakish angle. The men of the neighborhood often speak of her artistry. Their wives speak of her extremely poor cooking.

As spring progresses the weather grows warmer. The wet, heavy snows come less frequently and most of the days are full of sunshine. Sometimes sharp winds sweep off the snow-covered mountains to the north and cut across the mesa tops but the sheltering cave keeps them out of Cliff Palace.

As April arrives the effects of sunshine and moisture become evident. The grass is green, leaves are coming out on the shrubs and the earth is broken by the first tender shoots of myriads of growing plants. There is a damp, earthy smell in the canyons; the dank odor of rotting leaf mold, the heavy odor of wet clay. Through it all is the delicate fragrance of growing, budding plants. Back from the south come the first birds and spring is definitely in the Mesa Verde.

The earth-loving Indians are bursting with restless energy and everyone is busy. Sometimes the town is almost deserted as the call of spring draws them out of the cave. The cliffs echo with the laughter of small children as they play along the slopes and down in the bottom of the canyon. During the winter in the shadowy cave their skins became pale but already the spring sun is tanning them to a warm brown. Their hearts are light; they are like unrestrained little brown animals as they play the days away. They have fewer cares and troubles than the chipmunks and squirrels whose lives they make miserable. Each small boy carries a bow and each one knows how to set cord snares in the runways among the rocks. Sometimes a small hunter is successful and the cliffs ring with his exultant shouts as he brings a chipmunk or a squirrel or even a fat rat to his mother. At the next meal he is a hero and receives the choicest morsels from his kill.

Some of the older boys go out on the mesas for larger game. The wet, silent earth makes it easy for them to stalk the deer and mountain sheep that have never been alarmed by the thundering reports of firearms. At long range their flint-tipped arrows are not effective but they are clever stalkers and at 46 close range the silent arrows are deadly. In the evening they return with their game. They trot proudly down the precipitous trails and through the city, hoping that the eyes of the maidens will rest upon them. But the soft brown eyes are always turned away—still they see.

Most of the men climb up to the mesa-top fields even though they are too wet to be worked. Their love of the soil draws them to their farms and they boast about the crops they intend to grow, or listen to the old men as they tell of the miraculous crops of bygone years.

Even though it is too early to farm, the men are soon busy. New land must be cleared to replace fields that have been farmed too long. The sagebrush and shrubs are pulled up or are dug out of the ground with digging sticks. Small trees are cut with stone axes but the larger trees are burned and in all parts of the Mesa Verde columns of smoke rise as men of the different villages clear the land. Usually this clearing of new land is done in the late winter and early spring when the cool damp weather makes it easier for the men to control the fires. If the burning were done in the summer, forest fires would result and vast areas would be rendered uninhabitable through loss of fire wood and logs for house construction.

The fields are owned in common by the village but they are allotted to the clans, which are groups of families related through the female line. The clan in turn allots the fields to its various households, or families. After a generation or two the lands farmed by members of a household seem almost to belong to it but the real control is by the clan. As long as a piece of land is farmed properly it remains with the household but if it is neglected or if the household dies out, the clan heads allot it to other households within the clan. Since the clans are matrilineal, with descent of property in the female line, a man farms land belonging to his wife’s clan.

In the early spring no one is busier than the women. Each day they scour the canyons and mesas for early plants that will lend variety to the diet. During the late winter the food became monotonous. Day after day it was cornbread, beans and meat. Principally it was cornbread and although it was prepared in a number of ways it became tiresome.
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The early spring plants bring a welcome variation to this restricted diet. The green shoots of beeweed and tansy mustard and the first tender leaves of saltbush make delicious greens when boiled with pieces of fat and a dash of salt. Wild onions and juniper berries add an exciting flavor to a pot of deer meat stew. The puff-ball, a spherical, fungus-like growth six or eight inches in diameter, is sought eagerly after each warm spring rain. Toasted slices of puff-ball, eaten with a sauce made of salt and wild onions, are a real spring delicacy. Innumerable plants are edible and by countless generations of experimenting the Indian women have discovered their good qualities. They know exactly how to use each plant and new aromas rise from the cooking pots.

During the winter the people ate the monotonous food because they needed the nourishment. Now they eat for the joy of eating. Eyes gleam with anticipation as each family gathers around the fire in the late afternoon while the mother prepares the main meal of the day. There is cornbread, made in any one of a dozen ways. Deer meat is being roasted or boiled, or is bubbling in a thick stew. A pot of greens is stewing or a pot of beans, flavored with some spring plant, boils on the fire. A great pot of thin corn gruel, which will be drunk as a tea, simmers on its bed of coals. At last the food is ready and the steaming pots are placed on the ground in the midst of the family group.

As soon as all is ready the man of the family selects a sample of food from each pot; a few beans, a pinch of greens, a small piece of meat, a bit of bread, a few drops of tea. These he throws into the fire as an offering to the gods. Then the eating begins.

The only tools are the fingers and they are plunged eagerly into the food, hot though it may be. Chunks of meat are picked out and if too hot are held on a piece of bread. Bones are gnawed on, then dropped back into the pot as the fingers are needed for something else. Dunking is common and the bread is used to scoop up the thick stew. Toothless old men, becoming impatient, pick up the bowls and drink over the edge. There are long-handled ladles for dipping out the soup and broth, and stein-like mugs for the tea.

During the meal there is little talking; the accent is on the 48 food. The only noise is the licking of fingers and the loud smacking of lips that express appreciation for especially succulent morsels. As the men settle back, swollen from overeating, they seek relief in deep rumbling belches, each of which is a pat on the back for the cook. No words are necessary for a slow rumbling belch is far more expressive. It speaks of a full, happy stomach, complete relaxation and sleepy contentment. Each belch brings happiness to the fond wife and mother and she smiles as she removes the empty pots from the midst of her gorged and sleepy family.

Darkness is still an hour away but as the sun drops behind the opposite canyon rim the chill of the spring evening creeps into the cave. Women sit by the fires, robes around their shoulders, and visit idly. The men and older boys go to their kivas to talk, to doze, or perhaps to gamble a little. The children, following the shouted directions of their mothers, gather the turkeys which have been feeding on the trash pile in front of the town and drive them into the rear of the cave where they will be safe from prowling night animals.

As darkness falls the day’s activities are ended and quiet settles over the city. Mats, skins and blankets are rolled out on the floors of the houses and soon the people of Cliff Palace are asleep. The quiet of the night is broken only by the snoring of tired men and the barking of a fox across the canyon. The tiny sliver of a new moon sinks behind the western mesa leaving brilliant, low-hung stars to watch over the sleeping people.

During the early spring one of the most important activities of the women is the making of new pottery. Very little was made during the winter because of the cold but much was broken. Numb fingers often let the vessels slip and now each woman needs to replenish her stock of water jars, cooking pots, bowls, ladles and mugs. The greatest need is for the large water jars. In the early summer there will be a long period of dry weather. For at least a month, possibly for two months, there may not be a drop of rain on the Mesa Verde. The springs will dwindle and the great pools in the bottom of the canyon will shrink. There must be additional stored water.

There are no wells or cisterns so water will be stored in the large jars. The women must make many of them, each one large enough to hold several gallons of water. During the late 49 spring rains they will be filled and set away in small storage rooms that were emptied of their corn and beans during the winter. When the dry weather comes the stored water will be of vital importance.

The women of Cliff Palace make the beautiful black-on-white pottery that is typical of all the people of the Mesa Verde. They are proud of the graceful shapes and exact designs and each woman strives to excel her neighbors. All of the women use the same methods and there is a surprising sameness about their products. Each one varies her designs and no two pieces are exactly alike but all are of a standardized type. Each piece proclaims its Mesa Verde origin.

The women are very proud of their pottery and seldom swerve from the conventional type. Sometimes when the men go to distant regions on trading trips they bring home a few pieces of foreign pottery. Their wives compare this pottery with their own and are always satisfied. They feel that their wares excel all others and continue to make the same types their mothers and grandmothers made.

Pottery making is a long, detailed process requiring much skill and only after many years of practice are women able to make pieces of the finest quality. Each step must be carefully and thoroughly executed or the final result will not make a woman’s husband proud when he compares her pottery with that of the other women.

Two ingredients are needed for the actual construction; pottery clay and a tempering material. The clay occurs in a shale layer at the foot of the upper cliff of the canyon wall. There are many deposits, large and small, and each woman has a favorite place from which she obtains her clay. Up the canyon from Cliff Palace, at the head of the right-hand fork, is an excellent deposit that is favored by many of the women.

The nights are now without freezing temperatures that would render the digging too difficult so the women begin to make pottery. Early in the morning the potter leaves Cliff Palace and sets out for her favorite clay bed. She carries a large basket and a digging stick and is accompanied by any of her daughters who are learning the art. The clay is usually soft and easy to dig and she soon returns with a basket of blue-gray earth.
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The clay is spread out in the sun to dry and all stones and foreign particles are picked out. After drying thoroughly it is ground very fine on a metate, the same flat stone on which corn is ground. It is now ready for use.

The tempering material comes from an odd source. The woman simply goes out on the trash pile below the cave and picks up a quantity of broken pottery. This she grinds up just as she did the clay until it looks like fine sand. This tempering material is very important for it keeps the vessels from shrinking and cracking as they dry. Many centuries ago the ancestors of these women used sand and grit for temper. Some still use them but most of the women use ground-up potsherds. They are just as good and are much easier to obtain. Year after year the broken pots have been ground up and used again. Some of the particles the women are using today may have been used by their ancestors centuries ago.

When the clay and the temper are ready they are mixed, about one part of temper being used to two parts of clay. With her fingers the potter mixes the dry materials very thoroughly for a poor mix will give the pottery an uneven quality. Finally she is satisfied and water is added until she has a thick, heavy paste that does not stick to her hands as she works it. After this paste has been very thoroughly kneaded, actual construction of the pot begins.

From the mass of paste the potter pinches a small piece. With the palm of her hand she rolls it on a smooth stone until she has a rope of clay smaller in diameter than her little finger and several inches in length. The paste is so strong that she can pick the roll up without breaking it. Starting at one end she begins to coil this rope of clay around and around on itself, just as a snail shell is coiled. As she adds each coil she pinches it to the last one with her thumb and forefinger. When the rope of clay is completely coiled she rolls out another and adds it to the first. Coil after coil she adds until the rough pot is completed. At this point it is merely a long slender rope of clay which has been coiled around and around, up and up, into the desired shape, each coil being carefully pinched to the one below. The spiral nature is very evident and hundreds of evenly spaced thumbprints remain as evidence of the pinching together of coils.
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Black-on-white pottery
Ladle, double mug, mug and bowls
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If a cooking vessel is desired the inside of the jar is smoothed carefully but the outside is left rough and corrugated. Nothing is to be gained by smoothing and decorating the outside of a cooking jar for it will soon be blackened with soot.

If a water jar, or a bowl is being made, the work is only half done for it must be smoothed and decorated. Very carefully the potter rubs the vessel until the inside and outside are as smooth as she can make them. The vessel is still pliable and by working with her hands and a curved piece of gourd rind she can correct the shape slightly to make up for any mistakes she made in the coiling. At last the vessel is smooth and shapely and the potter is satisfied. She places it in the sun to dry and begins to coil another.

After a number of vessels have dried thoroughly in the sun the next step begins. From the mesa top, where it occurs just under the red top soil, the potter has brought a quantity of white clay. A small amount of this is ground up and mixed with water until a white, soupy liquid results. This is the “slip” and it is painted over the entire surface of the vessels giving them a chalky, white covering. Before the slip has dried, each pot is carefully polished with a smooth pebble. Short, brisk strokes are used and the entire surface is polished until it shines. This polishing is a tedious but important step for the smoothness, luster and hardness of the finished vessel depend upon it.

At last the pots are ready for the decorations and this is the part the potter likes best of all. It is her opportunity to demonstrate her creative ability. On Mesa Verde pottery the designs are always black, a color that is made from a local plant. Tender shoots of the common beeweed are boiled until a thick, brown liquid results. Pottery designs are painted with this liquid.

Out of thin air the woman snatches a design. She has a fierce pride in her ability to create these designs for she knows that later her finished pots will have to bear comparison with those of her neighbors. No tracings or trial pictures are made. She merely selects one of the sun-dried vessels, notes its size and shape and develops in her mind a design that will fit it. Following this mental picture she paints the vessel with the brown liquid. The brush is a small piece of yucca leaf, one end of 54 which has been chewed to loosen the fibers. Her free-hand strokes are swift and sure and soon the vessel bears an accurate, carefully-balanced geometric design. At this stage it is drab looking for the brown lines are not attractive.

At last, after many hours of tiresome work, the potter has a number of pots ready for firing. This is the crucial step and the excellence of the pottery depends upon its success. The pots are carried down to one of the lower terraces at the front of the cave and stacked in a shallow pit that has been scooped out. Over them the potter piles the fuel; wood, bark and cakes of rotting humus from under the trees. When it is ignited it burns and smoulders, subjecting the pots to an intense heat.

When she is satisfied that the pottery is well-fired, she rakes it out of the fire, polishes it with a piece of cloth or buckskin and her work is finished. The brown paint has been changed by the heat to a deep black that stands out in striking contrast against the light gray background. From the simple ingredients; clay, ground potsherds and beeweed, has come this beautiful, enduring pottery. It is the highest artistic expression of the Mesa Verde people.

As the potter finishes her work she places the finest pieces in a row along the edge of the terrace or on her roof for all of the women to see. The poorer pieces she puts back in the dark corners of the house where they will not be noticed. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees other women placing their pottery on display and she smiles with satisfaction as she notes that her work is as fine as any. There is much good-natured competition among the women and each one tries to out-do her neighbors.

As the spring progresses tremendous quantities of pottery are made. All through the cave women are at work and pottery in all stages of construction is to be seen along all of the terraces and in every courtyard. Spring is the most popular time for this task. The winter is too cold; in the summer water is often scarce. During the spring all conditions are perfect and the nimble fingers are busy until every household is equipped with an ample supply of vessels of all kinds.
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Black-on-white jars and corrugated jar on yucca fiber jar rest
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Occasionally, during the spring, a marriage takes place in Cliff Palace. When this happens there is much excitement and activity among the two clans affected. The clans are social divisions within the tribe. Each individual is born into a clan and that remains his social group throughout his life. In Cliff Palace, with its large population, there are many clans while in a small village there may be only one or two. The clans have very little to do with the religious life; they are a part of the social organization.

The pueblo society is matrilineal which merely means that the line of descent is through the women, not through the men. A child is born into its mother’s clan, never into its father’s. Property also belongs to the women and inheritance is figured through the female line. The husband lives with his wife in her house and his children belong to her clan. Marriage can never take place between two members of the same clan. This is a rigidly enforced taboo and the boy and girl must belong to different social groups. All of the members of a clan are considered as brothers and sisters, consequently there is little temptation to overstep this rule.

When a boy reaches the age of seventeen or eighteen and seems to be growing into manhood, his family begins to think of marriage for him. It is the responsibility of his elders to arrange this for there can be little happiness for a single person in a society of this type.

The boy himself has little opportunity for active romance. For some time he has been sending highly expressive glances in the direction of a certain young lady of a neighboring clan, glances loaded with question marks, flattery and many other signs from that most universal of all signal codes. Now and then an answering message flashes from her warm, brown eyes. In a very short while, and without a spoken word, an understanding grows up between them. Each would like to slip away to some quiet nook in the cliffs to take the matter up somewhat more directly but it is virtually impossible and decidedly unwise. The girl’s mother and her aunts have not missed a single one of those expressive glances. They do not disapprove in the slightest but they never give the girl a chance to slip away into the twilight. They may not distrust the girl but they certainly do not trust the spring moon that bathes the canyons in its warm, yellow light. Sometimes a young couple, unable to resist the call, does slip away into the night but it is very foolish. 58 There is no secrecy in this crowded community and a twilight tryst never goes unnoticed. The juicy morsel spreads for Cliff Palace, being full of human beings, has its gossips. The marriage value of the young lady is lowered.

In the normal course of events the young man who has been carrying on the optical conversation with the young lady is finally unable to curb his emotions. He goes to his favorite uncle, or possibly to his mother and pours out his heart. Boasting of his manhood and his hunting and farming abilities he concludes that it is high time for him to have a home of his own. And he would like to marry a certain young lady.

Immediately a family council is called and the proposition is discussed at length. If the elders do not approve of the young lady, the young man is immediately squelched. There is no resisting the decision. The brokenhearted youngster will either nurse his sorrow until another maiden captures his fancy or meekly marry some girl whom his family selects.

Marriage is an important function and the union of strong healthy boys and girls is a responsibility that falls on the older clan members. Occasionally a headstrong youth who has allowed a deep, long-distance love to grow upon him rebels against a dictated marriage. In his heart, however, is an inborn, confident reverence for his elders and he is soon frowned into line.

If, on the other hand, the family council approves of his judgment, a delegation is soon sent to talk with the family of the girl. The virtues of the boy are extolled at great length and there is a mention of certain presents that the boy’s family will give to the family of the girl. The relatives of the girl tell of her virtue, industry and excellent health and let it be known that certain presents will be expected.

If the two families fail to reach an agreement the romance of the young couple is ended, but if they finally talk around to happy settlement, the next step is up to the young lady. Shortly after sunrise the next morning she goes to the boy’s house and for four days grinds corn in front of the boy’s mother to prove that she can do this most important work. It is a backbreaking task but she keeps at it diligently, knowing that her work must be satisfactory. At the end of the four-day period, the boy’s 59 relatives examine the results of her labor. If the amount of corn meal does not please them the marriage is called off and the heartbroken young lady returns to her house.

If, however, they are satisfied with her grinding the marriage is agreed upon. It will not take place for weeks but there is much to be done. The boy and his family must get the gifts ready and it is the custom for the girl and her relatives to build a house.

In addition to presents which his family has promised to give to the girl’s family, the boy makes certain personal presents for his bride-to-be. He may make her a fine pair of sandals and may weave her a soft, warm feather blanket or even a beautiful white blanket of cotton.

The weaving of a cotton blanket may send him far afield. If his near relatives do not happen to have enough cotton on hand, he is forced to make a long journey to the south. The Mesa Verde people do not raise cotton and it is obtained by trade with tribes in the warmer lowlands. There are several men in Cliff Palace and other nearby cliff dwellings who are in need of cotton so an expedition is formed. These journeys are made each year and many of the older men are familiar with the route. Some of them act as guides for the young fellows who are going for the first time.

The Mesa Verde lacks certain important things; salt, seashells, cotton, turquoise and obsidian. In order to get these articles the men trade with other Indians who live to the south. Most of the men make occasional trading trips but some are professional traders who spend much of their time on long trading journeys.

For salt they must go to a salt lake 200 miles to the south. The salt is gathered around the edge of the lake, either by the men themselves or by other people with whom they trade. If the salt is dry it is carried home in bags but if it is gathered while wet, it is patted into balls which, when dried, are hard as rocks.

Obsidian and turquoise are obtained far to the southeast, near the big river. It is a journey of 200 miles to the turquoise mine but the deep blue stones are the finest known and are well worth the trip. Another source of turquoise is only 150 miles 60 to the east, across the high mountains, but the Mesa Verde men seldom go in that direction. Hostile Indians live in the mountains and the parties do not always return.

Sea shells come from the great ocean far to the southwest but the men do not go all the way to the ocean for them. The shells are traded from tribe to tribe as they move inland. By the time the Mesa Verde men get them from Pueblo Indians who live to the southwest, the price is very high.

Cotton, which will not grow in the Mesa Verde because of the cool nights, must be obtained from other Pueblo Indians who live to the south and southwest. It grows well in the warmer lowlands and is one of the most important trade items. The men trade for the raw cotton fibers, usually, and weave them into blankets after they return home.

Trading expeditions are happy experiences for the men. They not only love to travel and meet other people but they love to trade. All along the route are villages of friendly Pueblo Indians and the travelers are honored guests in these villages. Traders are always welcome for they not only offer an opportunity for trading but they bring news from far countries.

The departure of the trading party is a gala occasion and all the people in Cliff Palace join to give it a noisy send-off. It is the first expedition of the spring so a great many men are in the party. As they start down the canyon, each man carries a large pack on his back. Most of a man’s burden consists of the things he will offer in trade when he reaches his destination. Perhaps he has tanned buckskin: the soft white leather has great value in the lands to the south where deer are scarce. He may have the skin of a spotted fawn he choked to death last summer. For ceremonial use the skins must not be pierced by arrows so the animals are caught and choked and such skins are excellent for trading purposes. Also, he may carry a number of large, highly-polished skinning blades made from a banded stone found near the Mesa Verde. This stone is well known over the pueblo region and the blades are highly prized.

In addition to his trading materials, a man carries his bow and arrows, a blanket, a small bowl and a little food. He will be able to kill rabbits, squirrels and rats along the way and almost every night he will stop at a friendly village so little 61 food need be carried. A small amount of parched corn, some dried meat and perhaps a little corn meal of a special type is all he will need. The corn meal was prepared last fall for this very purpose. At harvest time the fresh corn was roasted, then ground into meal. This meal was thoroughly toasted and again was ground, this time very fine. The meal is so well cooked that a man need only stir it into a bowl of cold water to have a nourishing drink. The men know all of the streams and springs along the way so there will be no hardships unless they meet enemy people.

In two weeks the men begin to return and at the end of the month all are accounted for except a small party which went to the southeast for turquoise and obsidian. They are long overdue and at last the people give them up for lost. It merely means that they encountered a band of nomadic, warlike Indians and perished. Groups of savage hunters sometimes slip into the Pueblo country to prey upon the peaceful farmers and the pressure from these nomadic Indians is being felt more and more. There was a time, many generations ago, when the Mesa Verde people had no outside enemies and their villages were scattered over a vast area. At that time they lived in open pueblos out on the mesa tops and in all the broad valleys. Then nomadic hunting Indians began to drift into the Pueblo country. They raided the small villages, murdered the men, enslaved the women and children and destroyed the crops. In the border regions which were sparsely populated, village after village was destroyed by the raiders. As the pressure increased, the farming people deserted the valleys and the open mesa tops and for the last few generations they have lived in the cliff dwellings which they built in the caves of the Mesa Verde.

Cliff Palace has not yet been molested. It is in the midst of a large group of cliff dwellings and the population is so great the enemy people have not dared attack. But the men who have returned from their trading journeys have brought news of increasing enemy trouble in the surrounding regions and the people know the threat is coming closer.

This spring only the one party of traders was lost to the enemy. All the others have returned to the safety of their cave home and they tell of their journeys in great detail. They were received hospitably in Pueblo villages along the way and have 62 brought home a good supply of the things the Mesa Verde does not provide; salt, turquoise, cotton and sea shells. They have also brought news from all the country to the south. Fires burn far into the night as the people listen to the tales from the outer world. The young men who made their first trip have become heroes and they make the most of the opportunity as they tell magnificent tales of the things they have done and seen. Most of them did well with their trading but a few gambled and lost, and have returned with nothing but their loincloths. That is not serious, however, and the great cave rings with laughter as the people torment the unfortunate gamblers.

The young man who needed cotton for his marriage blanket sets up a loom in his kiva and begins to weave. Older men in the clan help him with the spinning and the blanket grows steadily. The yarn is spun by hand until it is fine and even and the young weaver listens attentively to the advice of the older men as his weaving proceeds. This blanket is an expression of his feelings for the young lady and he makes it as nearly perfect as possible.

The bride-to-be is also busy for she and her relatives on her mother’s side must provide a house. The spot is chosen, either beside her mother’s house or on top of it and the walls begin to rise. The house will be the property of the girl and her wishes are respected but the real supervisor of operations is her mother. She is experienced in such matters and her tongue is sharp as she directs the many workers. All of the girl’s clan relatives help. The men do the heavy work of cutting roof poles and shaping the stones while the mortar work and plastering is the work of the women.

Stones for the house are not quarried. The men simply go out along the canyon slopes and pick up small rocks which are of the proper size, though of irregular shapes. As soon as a large pile is accumulated they begin to dress the stones. A few, well-directed blows from a heavy maul or hammer give a stone the general shape desired, then a thorough dressing with small pecking and rubbing stones gives it the final finish. The sandstone is soft and the men are skillful, so in spite of the simple tools the building stones are turned out surprisingly fast.

Mortar for the walls is prepared by the women. Gray clay is generally used and it needs only the addition of water to make 63 a heavy, sticky mortar. The women do much of the work but they often call on the men for help. As the walls rise, prayer sticks are buried in the corners. These small, carved sticks are offerings to the Gods and assure the stability of the house. When the walls are as high as the builders’ heads, three or four heavy poles are laid across as main roof supports. Over these is spread a thatch of brush and withes and the roof is finished off with a layer of adobe three or four inches thick.

It takes only a few days to build the house if the builders are in a hurry but they seldom are. The house can be completed long before the boy’s weaving is finished, so the work is done leisurely. House building is a pleasant task. All of the close relatives in the girl’s clan work together and the hours are filled with laughter and practical jokes. There is much feasting and, of course, a happy celebration when the house is finished.

As the little structure rises there is a deep satisfaction in the hearts of the builders. They are helping a young couple reach their ultimate goal. To the home-loving people this goal is marriage, a home and children. Their lives point toward that end.

This tiny room will be home to the young couple for the rest of their lives. It is small, not over six by eight feet in size and the roof is so low that the husband will have to duck his head to miss the beams. The one door is very small, measuring only sixteen inches in width and twenty-four inches in height. The door sill is almost three feet above the floor and it will be awkward for the short, chubby little bride who is scarcely five feet tall. She will have difficulty straddling through the high opening, and will not dare grow too fat in later years. Older women often get so heavy that they can hardly squeeze through the tiny doors. But it has always been the custom to make the doors small and time-honored custom means more than the comfort of fat women.

There are no windows in the house and it has no firepit. Few of the women have fires inside their houses and cooking is done in the courts. Some of the older women who suffer from rheumatism and arthritis have fires in their houses but the smoke is very bad.
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The final step in the construction of the house is the plastering. This is left to the young bride-to-be and she does it with loving care. A smooth coat of plaster, a few red designs and the house is finished. Her husband will come to live in it with her but it will always be her property. She is terribly proud of it. Being uncivilized she feels that her home and children will be the most important things in her life.

All of the houses in Cliff Palace are much like this one. They are small, simple rooms that serve principally as sleeping quarters and for the storage of possessions. Most of the activities take place in the open courts and on the roofs of the terraced structures so there is no need for large houses. They would be difficult to warm in winter and would reduce the number of families that could live in the cave.

After weeks, sometimes months, of leisurely preparation it is time for the boy to move to the girl’s house. He has finished the presents he will give to her, the house has been built and the two families have exchanged the presents originally agreed upon. There is no actual wedding ceremony. The boy moves his personal property; his clothing, weapons and tools from his mother’s house to the girl’s house. They are now husband and wife. Although he is only eighteen and she only fifteen they have entered the serious phase of life and must bear their share of the community responsibility.

The first few weeks of married life are difficult for the young husband. He is living in the midst of his wife’s relatives who are watching him critically. If he fails to fit in, his life will not be pleasant and the marriage may not last. Most marriages, however, are successful for the young husbands, being still pliable, are able to adjust themselves to their in-laws. In some cases the house is not built until the young husband has lived for a time with the wife’s relatives and is fully approved by them.

If the marriage is not a success, divorce is simple. Perhaps the husband decides it is hopeless, not because he does not love his wife, but because he can not stand her relatives. He simply picks up his personal belongings and goes back to his mother’s house. If the wife decides to call it off, it is equally direct. One day when he is out hunting or working in the fields she throws all of his personal possessions out of her 65 house. When the husband returns, he cannot argue for all of her relatives are there to defend her decision. So back to his mother he goes.

If there are children in the family they remain with the mother for children always belong to the mother’s clan. They will be cared for by her relatives until she marries again.

In April a period of frenzied activity begins for the men of Cliff Palace. It will soon be planting time and the fields must be prepared for that all-important time when the precious seeds will be placed in the earth. The frost has left the soil and it is dry enough to be worked so each morning the men and boys trot up the trails to the mesa tops to spend the day preparing the soil for planting. The fields are scattered far and wide over the mesas. Most of the men from Cliff Palace have their farms nearby but some trot miles across the flat mesa tops to farm certain favored plots. These men who have descended from a thousand years of farmers have an uncanny ability to select the best areas for farming.

The fields are seldom large and they are never regular in shape. An acre here, a few acres there, they dot the mesa tops, the rich red soil standing out sharply against the green cover of the vast “green table.” The heavy snows of winter have filled the earth with moisture which will carry the crops through the dry, hot weather of early summer. Then the late summer rains will come and the worries of the farmers will be over.

Many of the men like to farm in the low draws above the heads of the canyons. There is deep, rich soil there and a concentration of moisture that produces the finest crops. Such draws are not large but they make excellent farming areas. The men even enlarge them by building terraces where the draws are too narrow and steep for normal farming. Low dams of stones are built across the drainage, seldom more than three or four feet high and twenty or thirty feet long. The heavy rains of summer wash rich soil from the mesas and deposit it behind the dams. Soon each one becomes a terrace large enough for a few hills of corn, beans or squash. Sometimes there are as many as a hundred of these terraces in a single small draw. In a dry year, when the plants on the mesa tops die from lack of moisture, these terraces usually produce a crop. Even a slight rain causes water to drain down across them and they assure a small harvest.
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The early spring work consists of clearing the trash and weeds out of the fields and stirring up the soil for planting. Dead weeds are pulled out of the ground and burned and the first green weeds of spring are prodded out of the soil with digging sticks. Some of the men even begin to stir up the soil where they will later place the seeds. Corn is sometimes planted almost a foot in the earth so each hill requires a great deal of effort. The plants grow better if the soil is loosened up so the men select the spots for the hills and begin to dig up the soil and turn it over.

The only tool is a digging stick, a slender hardwood limb that has one end sharpened into a chisel-like blade. Small digging sticks may be only an inch screen in diameter and a foot in length but the large ones are sometimes three inches in diameter and five feet long. The upper end of the large ones is rounded into a knob that serves as a handhold and near the base may be a prong so the foot can be used in forcing the blade into the soil.

Sometimes a stone blade is attached to the digging stick. The stone for these blades is found down across the big river, forty miles to the southwest. That is a short easy journey: the young men make the round trip in three or four days and return with long slabs of stone. For days the men grind these on pieces of sandstone until a long thin blade, two or three inches wide and from six to ten inches in length, is formed. The stone is a light tan color, with thin bands of red and brown and it takes a beautiful polish. When one of these blades is bound firmly to a long handle it makes a very serviceable tool for turning up the soil and chopping out weeds.

While the men are preparing the fields the medicine men are watching the weather very carefully. It is their duty to set the planting date. There are countless signs they must take into consideration. The return of certain birds from the south is observed and the appearance and growth of spring plants is watched carefully. The clouds and the sky are observed constantly and the wind is tested many times a day. All of these things have a meaning. Countless generations of medicine men have developed a “weather sense” and barring occasional mistakes they are quite accurate in their predictions.
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Old men sit in the sun and talk of better times

A busy afternoon in a cliff dwelling
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The planting date finally will be set by the Sun Watcher, a priest who throughout the year observes the movements of the sun. Each evening, as planting time approaches, he stands on the roof of his house and notes where the setting sun sinks behind the western horizon. Each day it comes closer to a large crack in the opposite canyon wall: when it reaches the crack it will be planting time. The moon also is watched and the priests note with satisfaction that a thin new moon is climbing higher in the western sky each evening. Planting must be done while the moon is growing larger. The corn will then grow as the moon grows. If it is planted while the moon is waning the corn will wither and die.

In addition to setting the planting date, the priests must also perform certain ceremonies over the seeds that are to be planted. Spring is not an important ceremonial season for the men are too busy to spare time for the long, elaborate ceremonies. Certain rites must be performed, however, and offerings must be made to certain gods so they will smile upon the people. It is a simple form of “crop insurance.”

The fertility rites are especially important for unless the gods of fertility and reproduction are pleased, the seeds will rot in the ground without sprouting. Around the precious seeds the priests and their helpers perform the ancient rites. Year after year the ritual is the same; countless generations of priests have developed this elaborate formula that is followed in the finest detail. There is endless chanting, parts of the legends are dramatized, and there are offerings of prayer sticks, corn pollen, cornmeal and perfect ears of corn. If the ceremonies are properly performed the germ gods will be pleased and the seeds will sprout and grow well.

As the end of spring draws near everything is in readiness. The germination ceremonies are over and the fields are ready for the planting. The eager farmers await the nod of the priests which will send them scurrying to the fields to plunge the seeds into the earth.

In any normal year in the Mesa Verde there are several days of rain about the middle of May. The farmers like to plant their crops just before the rains come in order that they may get the greatest benefit from the moisture. If the planting is done too early, however, there is danger of late frosts so the medicine men are in a dangerous position. If they sanction the planting too soon, frosts may nip the tender young shoots, while 70 if they hold off too long the rains may come. Not only will the planting be delayed many days but much of the benefit of the moisture will be lost.

Carefully, the priests watch the signs. The birds, the plants, the sun, the moon; everything goes through the regular progression of spring. The sun is moving farther and farther to the north and each evening the eyes of the people are on the Sun Watcher as he makes his sunset observations. At last the important day comes. As the sun sinks behind the horizon the Sun Watcher climbs down from his house top and hurries to the home of the Crier Chief. Immediately the Crier Chief steps out on his roof to make the announcement. The sun, he tells the waiting people, has reached the proper point; today it set directly behind the crack in the opposite canyon wall. It is planting time.

The next morning each man is off to his field at sunrise, carrying the various items of equipment he will need. The seed corn, only a small amount of which will be needed this first day, is carried in a pouch made from the entire skin of a fawn. The head and legs dangle grotesquely as the farmer throws the pouch over his shoulder. At harvest time last fall the finest ears of corn were selected for seed and ceremonies were performed to assure germination and growth. During the winter it was stored where it would be safe from dampness, mice and weevils.

In addition to his pouch of corn the farmer carries his planting stick, a plumed prayer stick and a small bag of corn meal. As he leaves his house, bowls of water are poured over him by the women of his household. This is symbolic of rain and will cause the summer rains to fall upon the crops.

Upon reaching his field the farmer goes to a well-known spot at the very center. With his digging stick he digs four holes, each one almost a foot deep. The first hole is north of the center spot, the second is to the west, the third is to the south and the fourth is to the east. On the west side of the northern hole he digs another which represents the sky regions and on the east side of the southern hole another which represents the lower regions.
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In the center of the space bounded by the six holes he kneels, facing the east and with cornmeal paints a cross on the ground. Murmuring a prayer, he plants the plumed prayer stick in the center of the cross and sprinkles it with cornmeal.

Now he moves out of the central space and opens his bag of seed corn. Carefully he selects four grains of each color—yellow, blue, red, white, speckled and black. Returning to the central space, he kneels facing the northern hole and begins to chant. At the proper point in the chant he drops the four yellow grains into the hole. Shifting to the westward, he continues his chant and drops the four blue grains into the western hole. Chanting without a break, he goes from one hole to the next. The red corn is dropped into the southern hole, the white corn into the eastern hole, the speckled corn into the hole representing the sky regions and the black corn into the hole representing the lower regions.

Now the ceremony is over and he fills in the holes where the seeds have been planted. Picking up his pouch of seed corn and his planting stick, he plants four long rows of corn, each one starting at his little central plot. One row extends to the north, another to the west, another to the south and the final row to the east.

When his seed is exhausted, he is through for the day and returns to the village. The rest of the field can not be planted until four days have passed. During that time he will go through many rituals of prayer, will place offerings at shrines and will not eat forbidden foods. Also, he will avoid trading, gambling and certain other pleasures.

After four days have passed, the remaining portions of each field are planted. This is done without ceremony and as hurriedly as possible for everything indicates that the May rains are near. There is a light haze in the sky and the air feels warm and damp. The moisture is in the air; only an east wind is needed to bring it down. Planting must be completed, if possible, before the east wind comes.

All of the men and boys, even some of the women, help with the planting. Shortly after sunrise they leave the village and scatter out to the many mesa-top fields. Food is brought to them by groups of young girls and the planting continues almost without interruption until sunset.
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Planting methods are simple. A hole is dug, the seeds are dropped in, and the earth is pushed back into the hole. Light pressure with the foot compacts the moist soil about the seeds. Corn is planted almost a foot deep and a dozen or more kernels are placed in each hill. Beans and squash are given a shallower planting with fewer seeds in the hills. Sometimes the corn, beans and squash are planted in separate plots but often they are all planted together in the same field.

There are no rows, simply individual hills planted from five to eight feet apart with no effort toward orderliness. The only care exercised in the location of the hills is that they must not be in the same spot as those of last year. Enough stubs from the last year’s crop have been left in place to indicate where not to plant. By changing the location of the hills each season and by wide planting the men save the soil, for it may be years before two hills are planted in the same spot.

The planting proceeds rapidly with the men digging the holes and the boys and girls dropping the seeds. Plot after plot is completed and the tension begins to lessen. In a few days every field is planted and the happy farmers sit back to wait for the rain. It is not long in coming. One evening the wind swings to the east and during the night the people are awakened by the pleasant sound of rain in the canyons. There are contented smiles on their faces as they are lulled back to sleep by the swishing waterfall that pours over the front of the cave.

The rain lasts for days. It is a soft, warm spring rain, a female rain. There is none of the bluster that will come with the male rains of late summer. Day and night it falls, and the earth, well-loosened by the winter frosts, drinks up the moisture.

There is happiness in Cliff Palace for an abundant harvest is now almost assured. The men gather in small groups along the front terraces, chatting gaily as they watch the rain. In their minds they see the grains of corn swell and burst, to send thin green shoots toward the light. In spite of the rain and mud some of them trot up to the mesa tops to look at the fields. They know exactly how the fields look but still they must see them. Nothing has happened. The earth is taking up the moisture, weeds are shooting out of the ground, but none of their plants have broken the surface. Drenched, they return to the cave to spread the word that all is well up on the mesa top.
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The rainy days are days of rest for the men but they are days of strenuous activity for the women and girls. All of the great water jars must be filled and stored away. As soon as the spring rains are over the dry period will begin. It may be two months before there is another drop of rain so the storage of abundant supplies of water is of vital importance.

In the canyon below Cliff Palace is a series of dams. The first one is just below the trash pile at the front of the cave while the last one is far down the canyon. Several of the dams are quite large, five or six feet in height and over twenty feet in length. These dams are not like the farming terraces up on the mesas. They are for water storage, so they are kept cleaned out and are not allowed to silt up. Being made of large stones, chinked with smaller stones and adobe, they act as perfect barriers for the rain water that drains down the canyon. All of the dams have been cleaned out and repaired during the spring and the rain soon fills each one to overflowing. The great pools of water thus retained sometimes last the people of Cliff Palace until the summer rains come.

In addition to the storage pools the women also store great quantities of water in their jars. Hundreds of the large vessels have been made; each woman has several. As the rain sends streams of clear water cascading down the cliffs the women fill these jars and set them away in the cave, each one covered with a close-fitting stone lid. Scattered through the city are innumerable small rooms that are too small for living purposes. They are for the storage of corn and beans. Many of the rooms are still full of grain but some were emptied last winter and they now make a perfect place for storage of the precious jars of water. Long before the spring rains are over the jars are all filled and safely stored away.

As the rains begin to show signs of subsiding the men keep watchful eyes on the dams in the canyon. Some are built higher, others are strengthened so that when the rains cease and the dry weather begins they will be holding every possible drop of water. The great pools are shaded by cliffs and trees and they will keep the water cool and fresh far into the summer. With the water that is contained in the pools and the water jars, and the daily flow from nearby springs the people have little fear of water shortage.
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After several days of almost continuous rain the skies clear and the sun beats down on a damp, green world. The warmth and moisture cause every growing thing to reach for the sky. Weeds spring up everywhere and after a few days the red soil of the fields is broken by the green shoots of sprouting plants. There is a splendid stand; the gods of fertility have heard the prayers of the people.

As spring slips into summer the people of Cliff Palace seem happy and contented. Everything indicates that a normal, prosperous year is in store for them and they should face it with light hearts. For the most part they do and during the spring there has been much gaiety and happiness in the town. But often the smiles are only on the surface—underneath is a deep, ever-present fear. Sometimes, when all goes well, this fear is almost forgotten. Then something happens and everyone is reminded of the evil beings who are always present—witches!

From earliest childhood each person has been taught to fear these creatures. Witches are evil human beings who have great supernatural power. They have only one desire—to harm and destroy people. Almost all diseases are caused by witches. They shoot objects into people whom they wish to harm; stones, rags, thorns, insects, bits of bone or even flesh from a corpse. Sometimes they even steal a person’s heart. When a witch uses his power against anyone, death is the result unless a medicine man breaks the evil spell.

Witches may injure a person or they may work against the entire community. They bring on epidemics, they cause floods and high winds and they can even keep the rain from falling. A witch may not always be in human form; sometimes it takes the form of a dog, a coyote or an owl. But always it is a menace because of the desire to harm and destroy.

Only the medicine men can recognize witches and overpower them, for they have the same power as the witches. But the medicine men work for the people and there is a constant struggle between them and the evil beings. If a person is ill, the medicine man sucks out the object which a witch has shot into his body. If a witch steals someone’s heart, the medicine man searches for it and restores it to the afflicted person.
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Since the people of Cliff Palace know that witches are always present they try never to offend anyone. A next-door neighbor, even a member of one’s own family, may be a witch and to offend him would be to invite disaster. Any person may be a witch so the people are suspicious of all unusual actions. If a man is jealous or constantly unhappy, if he roams about at night, or if he is seen lurking outside a house where someone is ill, he may find himself accused of witchcraft. For such a man life becomes a miserable affair. He is shunned by everyone and finally may be driven from the town. Or he may be punished severely and, if he persists in his evil ways, may be executed.

During the spring the witches have caused only a little trouble in the town. There has been some illness and a few people have died but it was nothing compared to what we shall see when winter comes. That is the time when the witches will be most active.

As spring ends the people are well satisfied with what they have accomplished for all the necessary work has been done. Houses have been repaired, new houses have been built and several young couples have married. Hunting has been good and the trading journeys, except for the loss of one party, were successful. Several new fields were cleared, much pottery was made and sufficient water is in storage. The fields have all been planted and, above all, the spring ceremonies have been performed.

The people of Cliff Palace are happy and contented as Spring turns into summer.