instead welcoming, she moves about with the assurance that comes from belonging, from fully participating in one’s world, with the grace of natural leadership. Parts of her house are 300 years old, though admittedly it was “extensively remodeled,” as we would say today, first by her great-great-grandfather, a Mescalero Apache. Long before New Mexico achieved statehood, he persuaded Carmen’s great-great-grandmother to elope from Taos Pueblo to nearby Rancho de Taos.

Despite this ancestor’s defection, Carmen maintains close ties with her Taos Pueblo kinfolk. Meanwhile, the Ranchos house has stayed in the family. Here Carmen cooked meals till she was 16 on a fogon de campana, or traditional, counter-height corner fireplace in the kitchen. With her husband, Ernest, on this little knoll above the vegas, or haymeadows, she brought up her children. They still surround her, now raising children of their own. Such deep roots are a rare thing in modern America, particularly out west, where it can seem that everyone is a newcomer. While one suspects that Carmen’s life is as full of hope and disappointment, success and failure, joy and sorrow as anyone else’s, her profound connection to a specific place and community remains a rarity worth honoring. So when we invite a steward of tradition like Carmen Velarde to build a kiva fireplace in our home—be it in Dallas, Albuquerque, or Taos—we’re asking for more than a corner fireplace. We’re really after a slice of her world, preserved in bricks and mortar for a few more generations. It’s an homage to authenticity.