The Dogs of Summer

The weather in this part of Texas is a little warm. And by “a little warm” I mean that we’ve been hanging out around 100F/38C for weeks. With no rain. This weekend the weather gurus are forecasting a hop up above 104F/40C before gliding back into the recent pattern. We’re experiencing a very dry (as in no rain) summer, in addition to a dry (as in slightly less humid) spell of air (possibly thanks to Hurricane Irene sucking all of the moisture from the atmosphere of the Western Hemisphere), but this is not a dry heat. This is air that might be able to support sea life.

August (and by “August” I mean August and September, which are virtually interchangeable, weather-wise) is traditionally very hot in this part of Texas. That fabled time of year when people talk about the air going out of everything. By which they mean that the brisk daily sea breeze sort of peters out, letting that moist air lay down upon your skin like a damp blanket that’s been tossing in the clothes dryer for a few minutes. August is the month that people Endure in this part of Texas. Endure for the promising possibility of beautiful weather and flip-flops in October and November. Endure for the potential gift of wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the sunshine on Christmas. 

So in August, we move our bodies very slowly, to conserve energy. We travel from shady spot to shady spot, and if we are dogs, we pant. We move our brains very slowly, because the hot haze seeps in and makes complex thinking difficult. We hold dripping wet glasses full of ice water to our foreheads and dream of that cool October breeze that will stir us from the lethargy of August.

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Editor’s Note: Two hours after I wrote this piece, out of the (hot) clear, blue sky, rain clouds rolled in. For about an hour I watched the sky get very dark, the clouds build into black castles of vapor. The wind blew very hard, pushing around the dust that had nothing to hold it to the ground. I wondered if this storm could be all bluster and no punch. The temperature dropped significantly. The straight wind started swirling. A few big, fat, rain drops made dots on the sidewalk, then evaporated in seconds as I watched them. I looked at the sky and wondered if the dots would be connected. I gave up and went in the house. The plink, plink, think of raindrops against the kitchen vent hood drew me to a window to witness the most beautiful downpour I’ve seen in a long time. A light to moderate rain fell for almost two hours, complete with thunder and lightning. Another booming storm woke us during the night, and another tripped in as the kids were going to school this morning. As far as drought goes, this is just a drop in the bucket, but we’ll take it. And this rain only changes our August behavior slightly. As we hold the dripping glasses to our skin, we will also be swatting mosquitoes.

Istanbul was Constantinople

I have these things that fire my imagination. They don’t go away. Places, objects, characters. They bubble up through my subconscious when I least expect them, some of them returning to me after months or years. One of these places is The Intersection at U.S. 285 and TX FM 1776 (Check it out at street view). I wrote about it here over the summer and have mentioned it in passing before. 

I go through this intersection maybe a couple of times a year, on the way to or from visits with family. In my brain, it is MY intersection and it is in New Mexico, but it’s actually everyone’s intersection and it’s in Texas. North of Pecos. Apparently it’s only been a four-way stop for a few years, though I remember it always being a four-way. One of the ways in which the present clouds our memory of the past, I suppose. 

It’s an odd place. There seems to be nothing around there for miles and miles, and I always wonder why the busy highway traffic should stop there. But the big trucks are some indication that perhaps there is more activity beyond the rolling ridges at the horizon. In recent years the intersection has been built up with warning rumble strips and flashing lights. HEY STUPID! I KNOW YOU’RE DRIVING OVER EIGHTY MILES PER HOUR BUT IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO STOP. NOWNOWNOW!!! I’m pretty sure that’s what the signs say. The intersection has been the sight of numerous fatal accidents over the past few years.  

When we drove through the intersection at the end of June, I didn’t notice any unusual activity about the intersection. Just the dry dry dryness of the desert. On our return at the beginning of July, however, just a week later, the landscape around the stop signs had changed. Earth movers were there and they had been fulfilling their life’s prupose. We made guesses that some sort of bypass was being constructed. I tried very hard to remember what the roads had looked like before all of that red dirt had been overturned around them. Next time I see it — if I even notice it as we speed by — it won’t be the same beast anymore.

Related: From the Alpine Daily Planet*, “U.S. 285 overpass to be built over FM 1776”

*You know that’s the coolest name for a newspaper you’ve heard for a long time, right?  

10 Things: Mailbox Cushion

I noticed it the other day. Other family members insist that it’s been there for a few weeks. I struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation. What does it MEAN?! And then I pulled out a pen and made up a list of 10 Things that could explain this scenario. But that’s not enough. I want to hear your 10 Things too. So get your writing tools, number 1 through 10, and when you see the photo, write down the first 10 Things you think of to explain why, WHY?! there is a plush, velvety, red cushion tied to the top of this mailbox with a blue cord.

Ready? My 10 Things will follow below. Click to embiggen the photo if you like.

GO!

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The mailbox of one of my neighbors

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My 10 Things: 

1. The cushion adds directional stability to keep the mailbox from falling off its post.

2. The cushion protects the sensitive mailbox from falling branches or acorns.

3. The cushion provides a place for the mail carrier to lean out of his truck to rest his head.

4. Once a week the neighborhood cats gather around the mailbox with the king or queen cat perched on the cushion throne.

5. The red cushion with blue straps is an alternative to tree streamers for demonstrating school pride. Go blue red!

6. The cushion is a teleporter. The mail carrier places packages upon the cushion and they are instantly zapped into the house. (This one courtesy of Sonar X11)

7. The cushion is the signal for a secret underground network, or perhaps the sign of the meeting place of a secret organization. (If cushion is red we meet at the library. If cushion is blue we meet at the Dairy Queen.)

8. Enclosed within the cushion is surveillance equipment that monitors traffic speeds or tries to catch kids who get stoned in the arroyo across the street.

9. This cushion is part of a new trend in front yard decor. Soon all the mailboxes will have plush adornments.

10. This is a showcase cushion. Periodically the homeowner displays his prize __________ to passersby.

Don’t forget to put your speculation, wild or otherwise, into the comments for all of us to enjoy. 

The Dinosaur Plant Rises Again

Please click to embiggen any photo.

Here on the Texas coast we have a lot of tropical foliage. In spite of our semi-arid climate (and a devastating ongoing drought), our humid atmosphere and generally mild winters allow many tropical plants to thrive. We have one such tropical in our front yard. We affectionately call it the Dinosaur Plant. We imagine it in some prehistoric landscape with its giant leaves being nibbled for dinosaur elevenses. Here it is a few years ago, with some tiny Sonars:

Then, the dinosaur plant was larger than our van, with its giant hand-like leaves forming an umbrella that wee people could tunnel under for a good hide-and-seek spot. The weight of its soft, leaning trunks eventually caused it to tip over in great loops. So we gave it a dramatic haircut a couple of years ago. 

The leaves filled-in very quickly, faster perhaps, because we’d made more room for them to grow. Last Halloween, a fuller-bodied version of the Dinosaur Plant supervised our graveyard.

I suppose it’s some kind of philodendron or something. I’m no plant expert. As I mentioned, our winters are mild. For the past several years, our coldest winter weather involved two hours at the freezing point, in the middle of one or two nights during the entire winter. The barest threat of freezing temperatures incites a fury of linen spread in front yards by tropical plant lovers. Bushes wrapped in quilts and bedsheets, some with extension cords strung for electric blankets.

The Dinosaur Plant has a fair amount of mass, and so we have never worried about a dalliance with freezing temperatures. No blanket has ever swathed those giant leaves, electric or otherwise. Oh sure, the tips of her fingers were sometimes a little frost-bitten, but nothing very serious.

This winter was a bit different. We had a week of subzero temperatures, with blisteringly cold windchills, topped off with an ice storm that shut down the entire Coastal Bend of Texas for a couple of days. Exciting stuff. Many people in the area had never experienced an ice storm. Corpus Christi’s landmark Harbor Bridge was coated in a fine sheet of ice, impassable for more than a day, not because of ice on the road, but because of the giant chunks of ice falling from the superstructure. Tropical plants withered up and died left and right. The Dinosaur Plant sustained heavy damage. When the trunks thawed, they turned a bit mushy. We were forced to cut her back to ground level and wonder if she’d grow back.

She did. 

Hope springs eternal.

A Paper-Tweet Vacation

We recently drove from sunny Coastal Texas to chilly-snowy North-Central New Mexico.  We do this sometimes.  Usually in a Eurovan with three children and enough stuff to keep us busy for three months.  The drive both ways was absolutely beautiful.  The Sonars wanted to see snow in New Mexico and they were not disappointed.  The snow season in New Mexico has been spectacular (it’s snowed once more since we left).  We had flurries at Papa and Nana’s house on the northwest side of Albuquerque, and we spent a glorious slippery afternoon tobogganing on the east side of the Sandias. 

I resisted the urge to tweet away the vacation with my phone.  At more leisurely moments though, I could not resist the urge to jot down (on actual paper!) things I might have tweeted at those moments.  And just to make it look like I have nothing to do right now, I thought I’d share them with you. 

 The stunning sunset view from my parents’ porch. North Albuquerque and a portion of the Sandia Mountains at sunset. Please click this thumbnail to make it bigger. It’s worth it.

March 13, 2010

*On the road from Calvert, Texas to Corrales, New Mexico.

*Lost in Waco, home of Dr Pepper. Baylor buildings are pretty. Don’t see any bears.

*Dublin, TX. Heard a rumor they make DP w/cane sugar here. Knights of Pithius sign in the Rotary bldg window. Big shudder.

*Gorman Mills. Peanut elevator!

*Abilene is long and skinny w/ few food choices on the interstate besides truck stops.

*Sweetwater, TX, Sonic. Rattlesnake Roundup this weekend. Apparently we are the only people here not attending.

*Roscoe, TX. Wind turbines on the edge of the highway. Huge and ready to march across the plains. They are crankin!

*Farm the wind from the air and cotton from the soil. Road Radio: Def Leppard.

*Price Daniel Unit TDJC. What does this mean? Road Radio: Bad girlfriend.

*Snyder, TX. Bathroom break. 

*Knitting. Finished a sock at Justiceburg, TX.

*Texas is pretty big. 11 hours on the road and we haven’t left the state yet. #understatement

*Pride Runs Deep in Shallowwater. #roadsigns

*Anton, TX. Pronunciation tips anyone? Ant’n? Ann-tahn?

*Looks like dinner in Clovis, NM. Anyone have a favorite place?

*Prairie dogs are watching cars go by from the edge of the freeway.

*Sudan.

*Tumbleweed!

*Ack!  (Someone nearly ran us off the road there. Happily, a state trooper was there to catch the dangerous passing and the speeding)

*Was that a pull-camper decorated like a dog?

*Ah. We made it to our destination in good time.  To bed now. 

 Sunday March 14

*Someone who shall remain nameless, in an overtired state, might have tried to pee on the ceiling in his sleep.

*Cold front moves in. Sky turns gloomy. Will it snow?

*It’s snowing! We’re bundling up the kids to go look for enough snow to slide in.

*Snow rain sun snow rain sun snow rain sun

*Toboggan at Sandia moutains. Slushy cold snowballs silding mud fluffy snowflakes fun leading to happy tired.

*Altitude change and dry air playing havoc with sinuses.

Monday March 15

*Snow-covered mountain view in the morning sunshine.  Sonar X9 wants to do more sliding. Brisk walk.

*The kids are bringing sand from the driveway to the patio on sock-load at a time.

Tuesday March 16

*Albuquerque has a lot of billboards. #understatement

*Explora! An amazing museum where we can play with everything! Sciencey, puzzley, educationey, geeky.

*Explora! We could come back every day and neither get bored nor play with it all. 

*Explora! There are many things in this museum I’d love to imitate at home. Ex: the stretchy sail room dividers that are adjustibly attached to walls with old stereo jacks. (ok, that one’s too long to be a tweet. Cut me some slack.  I was on vacation.)

*Explora! Gift shop is as awesome as the rest of the museum. I bought brain-teaser puzzles for the drive home.

*Dream food: Little Anita’s chicken tacos or enchiladas.

*A common New Mexico question: red or green?  Come on.  No contest.  Green all the way baby. 

*Dry sinus misery. If I don’t drink till my eyeballs float I can hardly breathe. I might be turning into a mummy.

Wednesday March 17

*Happy St. Patrick’s day. Brisk morning walk. Chewy dark beer in the afternoon. Home-cooked corned beef and cabbage by Nana.

*New running shoes and sport sandals for Sonar X9 (he’s training for a team marathon). Shiny shoes are always faster.

*Didn’t get a chance to call bro to wish him a happy birthday until it was late in the evening. I suspect he’s already on a pub crawl.

Thursday March 18

*Another brisk morning walk. Convinced Sonar X5 to come. Sonar X9 ran most of the way.

*New sport sandals for Sonar X5. Not so shiny but easier to shake out the sand than tennies.

*Dan, Sonars X7 and X9 return to the mountain for more sliding. Here on the mesa it’s nearly 70F.

*Sonar X5 and I hang with Nana on the patio and try not to get a sunburn. Only partly successful.

*Delicious pizza dinner and more of that growly dark beer. Love the molassesy undertones. 

Friday March 19

*Rough night w/much sneezing, coughing, and flopping. We are all histy. Time to head home. New Mexico we will miss you!

*On the road by 6am MDT. Hoping to hit our southerly turn at Cline’s Corners before sunrise breaks the horizon.

*Made the turn moments before daybreak, saving us some eyeball splitting.

*Beautiful sunrise over the desert. Orange yellow pink purple blue grey.

*Everyone’s skin feels like paper.

*Snow remains in many shady nooks and crannies along the road.

*Encino, NM is not quite a modern day ghost town, but very very close. Not much more than a speed trap w/ many dilapidated buildings.

*Breakfast in Vaughn, NM. The Conoco store or Penny’s Diner?

*Penny’s was nice. It will fill you up, but don’t expect it to be fast. 

*Eastern New Mexico: big ranches, wide open spaces, cows, easy driving on 285S to Roswell.

*Speed limit: 70mph. My speed: 74mph. The driver who just passed me rapidly: reading a book. #crazy

*Vaughn to Roswell: not much. A few startlingly green alfalfa fields, fewer than a dozen buildings visible from highway, handful of bus stops.

*Subtle shift around mile marker 114. Less cow. More drilling.

*Roswell’s alien kitsch is always fun. Town seems very vibrant compared to many communities.

*Let the tantrums commence. Nearly 1/3 home, three tantrums so far. Good news though, I can mostly breathe through my nose again. 

*Almost halfway. Trying to delay lunch another half hour. Should I bribe them with jellybeans?

*Stop sign in middle of nowhere. Intersection between US Hwy 285 and TX Farm to Market Rd 1776. No traffic. Weird.

*Ft. Stockton one of my fave parts of this drive. Halfway and the wind turbines.

*The turbines stand at the head of the mesas and ridges like forward scouts or sentinels. Sneak up in valleys to ambush unsuspecting passersby.

*A beautiful sand- and chocolate-colored paint horse near the road.

*The scrubby bushes at Ft. Stockton grow steadily on the road to San Antonio, gradually becoming trees.

*A goat standing on the side of the road.  Some dogs on the roof of a building. Not in the same towns.

*Darkness falls as we hit San Antonio. We stop to eat and load up an audio book for the kids. Hoot by Carl Hiassen.

*Kids drop off to sleep one at a time. We do not drop off to sleep. 

*Amazingly, we make it home way before midnight. One more brief tantrum of waking confusion, and we all land in our beds, happy to be home.

*We’ve had a lovely time. Thanks for sharing snippets with me. #love