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				<title><![CDATA[Southern New Mexico Travel and Tourism Information: Activities, Attractions, History, and Culture - Articles - ]]></title>
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					  <title><![CDATA[Fishing at Bonito Lake - small lessons in life and death]]></title>
					  <link>http://www.southernnewmexico.com/articles/54/1/Fishing-at-Bonito-Lake---small-lessons-in-life-and-death/Page1.html</link>
					  <description><![CDATA[Bonito Lake outside Ruidoso in the Sacramento Mountains of Southern New Mexico is a small man-made body of clear water reflecting the blue of the sky behind a dam at the end of a road that follows the Rio Bonito through forested canyons. It lies peacefully in a high country basin north of the sacred Apache peak of Sierra Blanca. It is a fine place for teaching my girls to fish. ]]></description>
					  <author>no@spam.com (Greg Holt)</author>
					  <pubDate>Thu, 09 Jan 2003 04:02:57 PST</pubDate>
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					  <title><![CDATA[A Tree for my Future Ruidoso, New Mexico home ]]></title>
					  <link>http://www.southernnewmexico.com/articles/71/1/A-Tree-for-my-Future-Ruidoso-New-Mexico-home-/Page1.html</link>
					  <description><![CDATA[The lady at the Forest Service office in Ruidoso said I could take a tree up to ten feet tall, so that's what I was determined to do. Although tempted, I wasn't going to give up on removing this tree and taking it to the land I'd bought a couple of years ago. The land where I'll live someday.]]></description>
					  <author>no@spam.com (Greg Holt)</author>
					  <pubDate>Fri, 03 Jan 2003 05:23:04 PST</pubDate>
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					  <title><![CDATA[Sitting Bull Falls - Shadows of Clouds across the Desert]]></title>
					  <link>http://www.southernnewmexico.com/articles/29/1/Sitting-Bull-Falls---Shadows-of-Clouds-across-the-Desert/Page1.html</link>
					  <description><![CDATA[ 
Summer:  1966. The powdery sand blew off the rock face I was clinging to and into my eyes. I blinked and squinted into the sun, craning my neck up to look up the steeply canted rock. 
Through dusty glasses I looked between my outstretched arms at the stretch of the rock face above and suddenly felt utterly alone. I could not see anyone above me, only hot white rock. My fingers were jammed into a crack and my knuckles were bloodless from the grip. ]]></description>
					  <author>no@spam.com (Greg Holt)</author>
					  <pubDate>Sat, 21 Dec 2002 05:51:55 PST</pubDate>
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