Wrapping it up 
June, 2013

This afternoon came the news about the wildfire at home in Prescott - alarming, to say the least.  In a very few hours, flames have consumed more than 600 acres on the northwest side of town; at zero containment, there will be much more turned to ash before it is over.  Terrible to lose our wonderful habitat, but hoping that will be all that is lost.

It’s hard to think about other things at a time like that; however, I intend to turn my attention elsewhere for a spell as I am wanting to get this written while waiting for the señor to get home from work.  Three more days until our weekend vehicle shuttle followed by our easterly travel.

I’ve spent much of the past week in the genealogy library highgrading material as fast as I can.  I visited my friends, Joy and Bonnie, for the last time.  It has been such a pleasure to get to know them both; if anything could make this Mid-nutty-land stay worthwhile, it would be them, cousins Carl and Alice and my new friend, Marie, from the library.  We dined with Carl and Alice again and hope they will get out our way one of these days.  Carl's last note to me said their pool is ready for use, a tad late for me.  I want nothing more at this point than to find a body of water to jump into, an ocean would be even better.

The Preserve, Mrs. Baird’s bread, playas . . .

A recent walk in the Preserve revealed water again in the playa after that great rain the other night.  Noticing that all of Mid-dry-lands parks are hollowed out to serve as playas, a friend told us that helps to prevent the town from flooding during those rare rains.  Water collects in those catchments, naturally irrigates the grass and trees and theoretically seeps away into the aquifer.

A curve-billed thrasher sat for his portrait in the Preserve.  Cactus wrens came to call at home and liked our bark--concealed bugs so much they invited friends in to feast, also to fuss at Rowdy when he reclines for a nap in the chair.

Ick!

I couldn’t resist one more stop at the whatever that place is with all the exotic animals, this time armed with Mrs. Baird’s cheapest loaf.  It was enjoyed by all, but really savored by the zebras.  I wish I had brought peanut butter to spread on it.

Nothing prettier than grass seeding.

Reptilian things. . .

Identifications have been made with a little help from my friends.  Eric at Prescott’s very own Jay’s Bird Barn informed me the snake picture I posted previously shows a non-venomous speckled king snake.

Nathan, director of the I-20 Preserve, names the lizard a checkered whiptail.  Thanks, fellers!

And now we have spotted a tortoise dining on ants.  Relying on information we find online, we dub him a Texas tortoise.  Doesn’t necessarily match the pictures we found nor even the range indicated; however, it is said to be the only tortoise that clumps around in the lone star state.

Shakespeare, Museum of the Southwest . . .

“Let’s take a different way home” I suggested when we left the zoo-like facility, and so we wended this way and that through unexplored neighborhoods of Odessa until we saw an odd roofline on the next street that required checking out.  Astounding - there we beheld London’s Globe Theatre and Anne Hathaway’s house smack dab in West Texas.

Helping ourselves to the interior, we watched dance rehearsals in the charmingly replicated structure and heard all about the history (built in 1958) and the productions.  It would have been so fun to see a show there.  Truthfully, there have been numerous plays and concerts at various venues in the area during our tenure; however, we have not pursued finding out about them because of Chris’ extended and varied work hours, also our intent was to generate income, not outgo.

For those who live here, there are cultural activities to be had.  And speaking of culture, we utilized a free Sunday afternoon to see the Museum of the Southwest.  I had noted its welcoming campus: manicured green lawns and landscape surrounding attractive brick complexes.  In all honesty, I was prepared to rave about another of Midland/Odessa’s top-notch museums, which may have made the disappointment all that much worse.

To fill in a bit: the main building originated as the magnificently appointed 1930s mansion of Fred and Juliette Turner, without a doubt the most imposing dwelling in Midland; then tragedy.  When Juliette was alone in the house one night in the 1960s, the place was burgled; in the ensuring confrontation, she was killed.  Her husband died not long after and their offspring donated the place.

 

Additions have been made: one houses a planetarium that was closed when we were there, and a children’s museum that we didn’t browse. 

I was not too sure what to expect from something calling itself the Museum of the Southwest, but whatever preconceived notions I might have harbored bore no resemblance to the actuality.  One room had a collection of Taos artists' works, a small but auspicious beginning.

Next was a very large gallery of one man’s photography of sport-related activities and players - we’re headed downhill rapidly.

Those were the primary galleries - down a hallway, we found ourselves in the Turner mansion, having had no idea the museum was an extension of a historic house.  There is no brochure or any kind to advise visitors about the museum - very odd, we thought.

We like touring houses as much as museums, so this turn of events was okay by us even though it was a limited and unexplained tour.  The library was furnished, I’m guessing with original pieces, including two alligator-hide chairs: a lovely room indeed.

An unfurnished front room allowed us a look at the original custom vinyl tile centered by a lone star.  The upstairs is closed off, previously accessed via an exquisite wrought iron railing.

The remainder of the downstairs interior was taken up with a traveling exhibit along the walls - far, far too many of wooden box-like things, partially washed with various paints and many topped by three river rocks.  Several large rooms housed this one-man exhibit that was slated to be in place for three long months.

On a more positive note, I was quite taken by a sculpture in the foyer that actually had an explanation: it was fashioned from pink Tennessee marble by Allan Houser, titled "Watching for dancing partners" - an exquisite piece.  On the lawn was a wonderful life size sculpture called “The Naming”.

Perhaps to atone for the lack of explanatory material, further information about the galleries could be obtained by scanning a couple of images with one’s smart phone, which in this case, one does not own and if one did own one, one would still be annoyed to be required to scan with one’s cell phone.  Shouldn’t one have one’s smart phone turned off anyway when perusing a museum???  Whatever happened to non-electronic communication!

Well, there ya go - I was unimpressed and disappointed.

Arizona, fires . . .

Sunday - we are returning from a tiring drive to southern Arizona over the weekend to leave Ruby with my brother and sister-in-law.  The expected eight-hour drive consumed something more like 12 on the way there.  I had been excited about the new covers we found to protect the kayaks from the sun whilst they ride across the country on top of the truck, but the reality was another story.  After three stops to make adjustments required because of the wind ripping at them, we bowed to necessity and removed them.  Me and my good ideas . . .

As we head back to Texas, we are driving through thick smoke from a fire in Mexico.  The smoke plume is huge and smoke is obscuring the Chiracahuas, chokey in Lordsburg where we stop for fuel.  Evidently this is deliberate burning for agricultural reasons.  It reminds me of folks back home dealing with the Prescott fire; I have heard the firefighters saved all homes in our area - great news!

Outta there . . .

Monday morning and we are on the road, trailer trailing as all good trailers ought.  Turns out that six months is plenty long enough for a place to assume the role of home.  We know someone was anxiously awaiting our departure so they could move from the barren side of the campground to our luxuriously appointed space under a mulberry tree, still it felt odd to leave that dusty noisy spot that has housed us for a half-year.

We now enter yet another phase of life.  Although none of us knows what awaits us beyond our current moment, Chris and I are having that lesson reinforced.  We set out in a certain direction with certain intentions; however, underlying our day-to-day activities remains the fact that we have no home to which we may return.  It is liberating in a way, yet disconcerting in another way.  I think the truth of it has not yet regestered completely.

At any rate, we expect to spend tonight near San Angelo; beyond that, I don't need to know.  I simply bid adios to Mid-chaos-land and thank it for the opportunities given.  In Linn's cleverly worded way, "It was middling". 

Some cats really know how to kick back.

Perhaps not now considered as clever as he once thought . . .

Best business sign ever.