Pictures from the Road

Unexpected

It's impossible to plan a trip without dreaming... envisioning what one will encounter in a place one has never visited.  It's the impetus for carving away at busy schedules, and well, all that schlepping of suitcases.  One of the pleasantest aspects of travel (or the most frustrating) can be the ways in which those dreams are challenged by the reality of a place.

We expected that by traveling south in springtime, we'd encounter warmer weather, but the temps are about the same here in southern New Jersey as they've been in Maine for the past few weeks. Glad we brought wool socks and fleece jackets, and that the Buglet has a heater!

We expected   to sit around campfires in lovely state parks with our doggie beside us begging for bites of roasted marshmallows, only to learn that most state parks in New Jersey don't allow dogs. No dogs!  So after only one night, we had to abandon the idea of relaxing in those pretty unspoiled arenas, and had to make our way to, sigh... a private campground. This one isn't terrible. But it isn't wonderful. It isn't a state park.

Tuesday, our first full day here, was grayish and cold, and we spent it lounging about in the Airstream, reading, resting, and mostly eating. Everything tastes extraordinary on vacation, even plain things like bread and butter. Even string beans. Our small container of Ben and Jerry's vanilla heath-bar crunch was downright orgasmic.

We awoke Wednesday morning to rain pinging the aluminum over our heads, and with weather reports speaking of all-day showers, we envisioned another day of quiet inside events.  But feeling a bit antsy to - well, begin our vacation, we decided to go out to breakfast, and then drive around a bit. We found a great eating place (Mad Batter Cafe), and while stuffing ourselves with Benedict (me) and a lobster/crab frittata (D.), were delighted to realize that the sun was making a completely unexpected appearance through the restaurant windows!

 This pretty town of Cape May, with its sweet Victorian homes, is very walkable, and with stuffed tummies and sunshine warming the tops of our heads, we made our way to the long, long promenade running parallel to the Jersey shore. The day became beautiful, and we discarded ideas of indoor activities right along with our sweaters.  We walked for a couple of hours, savoring the sound of hard tides and sea birds, the salty smell in the air, our Willie keeping right up despite his short doxie legs. It wasn't until we left that we saw the sign saying "No dogs allowed on the promenade."

We then drove to Cape May Point State Park, where of course, dogs were also not allowed. Our boy does not do well being separated from his beloved Alpha and Beta litter mates (us), so after rolling down the windows to assure him some cool ocean breezes, we walked the beach, and later climbed all 199 steps to the tippytop of Cape May's Lighthouse, all the while being serenaded by Willie's embarrassingly loud, affronted "Roo! Roo! Roo!"

 From there, a short drive took us to Sunset Beach, famous for crab cakes at the Sunset Grill, and for Cape May diamonds, very clear quartz crystals that wash up on the beach in abundance. They polish up really nicely, making wonderful jewelry. It was also one of the few places we found that welcomed dogs. Even the Sunset Grill had a sign saying there was a place for four-footed patrons on the lower deck. Unfortunately, the grill was... closed. (sigh)

The realization that we were becoming tired coincided with the disappearance of the sun and the reappearance of the cool, so we made our way back to the campsite, where we roasted sausages on the fire, and gave Will just the teensiest bite of marshmallow to make up for the fact that New Jersey doesn't seem to like dogs.  

We realize that the remainder of our week here will be shaped largely by where Willie can and can't go. But that's okay. He's our sweet little Gamma-Boy.

  

For Little Mike

When we arrived last night at Montgomery Bell State Park in Burns, Tennessee, we were greeted by our very own Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Even though it was pitch-dark outside, we could see flashlights by the creek behind our campsite, and the boys came forward and used the lights to guide us into place. We fell asleep to the sounds of their happy discoveries, and when we awoke this (Thursday) morning, they were already at it again, their bikes lying on their sides by the creek while the boys (ages 9 or 10) waded knee-deep. I love these boys. One doesn't see this kind of adventurous play much anymore, and they spoke to some old memory of days when we ran around in the fresh air, exploring and learning about the natural world. Sweet.

After a light breakfast, we hooked up the Zep and took off for the wonderful world of Country Music. I grew up on this stuff, as my dad was a country-western musician, who had his first band by age 13, "Mike and His Hillbillies." We have a great picture of him with his accordion, two little guys on guitar, and one on a washtub bass, all wearing their cowboy suits. While I grew up, he continued to play country music at various functions, weddings, family events, VFW halls, and the like, and my brothers and I learned songs like "Help Me Make It through the Night" while other kids were learning "Twinkle, Twinkle." A few years ago, my dad was honored by being inducted into the Maine Country Music Hall of Fame, which he would have been so proud to see - it's a shame it came after he passed away, but of course, it meant a lot to us. His legacy was that all of his children - my two brothers and I, learned to sing and play the guitar, and have been members of bands at one time or another.

So today - in honor of Dad aka "Little Mike" - we went to the Country Music Hall of Fame, in Nashville, Tennessee.

Suffice it to say that David is not the biggest fan of country music, so this was a labor of love for him, but you know, we both had a good time. The museum does a great job of giving a history of the country sound, with its roots in Elizabethan English folk-tunes (brought to the Appalachian areas in the southeast U.S.), the music of Negro Slaves, and the spirituals being sung in churches throughout the south. The "blending" of all of these gave rise to an integrated kind of folk sound, most notably heralded in by Jimmie Rodgers, and others not as well-known, in the early 1900's.

It was interesting, the degree to which I recognized the old classic country singers - Conway Twitty, George Jones, Buck Owens, Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, and so many others, but was lost with the new performers - I just don't know their work. But I feel gratitude at the gift my dad gave my brothers and me - the tradition of working-class music, sweet (and sometimes downright silly) "story" songs, and the like. Beautiful melodies and harmonies. Some of that music is in my bones, still.

We didn't have time to visit the Grand Ole' Opry, and unfortunately, were in Nashville on a weekday, when there are no shows there, as it would have been a thrill to see one. But we checked out the building, and were surprised (and a bit disappointed) at it's modern-ness. Guess the Grand Ole' Opry isn't so much a building, as a radio show that's been going on forever.

Before leaving town, we stopped at Prince's Hot Chicken Shack, for what we're imagining will be our last barbecue meal, as we begin making our way home. Sad to say, this was the first place we've encountered where we felt some racial tension - our smiles were met with stony stares, but so be it. The food was great, and even the MILD sauce was hot. After a few coughs and some nose-blowing, however, it was clear this is the kind of stuff that becomes completely contagious - in fact, I could use some of Prince's hot chicken right about now!

We spent the night in a small campground in Kingston, Tennessee, rather than going on to the Great Smoky Mountains, as we'd hoped. The weather in the northeast right now means we're somewhat on hold, so we've decided to head as far north as we safely can tomorrow, which means somewhere in southern Virginia. It's interesting to see how our journey home will manifest, given storms, flood warnings, etc., that we're encountering now. Kind of exciting!

Onward we go...

Birthplace of Rock & Roll

Wednesday morning, home in four days... There's still a distance to go, but we're winding down here. Sad, definitely, as this free feeling is something we've not known since perhaps childhood. Back to work, responsibility, the everyday this and that.

We began by saying goodbye to the Ol' Man - the current is swift at this juncture of the Mississippi, and large branches, small logs, and other flotsam and jetsam, flow past at a good clip. We'll miss the Big Waters - they are impressive.

Our one outing of the day, just before leaving Memphis, was a tour at Sun Records, the place where Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, BB King, Ike Turner, and so many others all got their starts. All the old recording equipment - behemoths that performed relatively simple recording tasks - is still there, along with memorabilia, great old posters and of course framed original records. The tour is led by a staff member there, and includes fun background info and great sounds - first cuts of songs we know well now, Elvis' first pressing of a song that Sam Philips, who started Sun Records, didn't particularly like. (It would take him another year to sign Elvis, after hearing him perform "That's All Right".)

The studio is tiny by current standards, but so much great music came out of its now-primitive equipment.

Before hitting the road for Nashville, a stop for more "Q," at Corky's, where David broke his recent barbecue tradition and ordered chicken. Of course it was paired with the requisite short rack of ribs - these done Memphis style. That turns out to be dry-rubbed with spices and smoked. My pulled-pork-and-coleslaw sandwich was heavenly - never eaten coleslaw between two slices of bread before.

A quiet night we're planning, resting in the Zepplin. We're tired, and gearing for the final thrust home.

Okay, on to Nashville, y'all.

Synthesis

We reluctantly left Petit Jean State Park on Tuesday morning, pausing at an overlook that offered the sight of the snaking Arkansas River, while hawks flew low over our heads. Yes, that word again: beautiful.

There was what appeared to be a stray dog there who had appeared at our camp the night before, probably drawn by the smell of grilling chicken, but try as we might, we couldn't get the skittish little guy to come to us. He looked like a Brittany/puggish mix, with one squinty eye and an itchy ear - clearly needed a little vet attention. Attempts to hand-feed him a couple of hot dogs failed, but we tossed them his way anyway. Too bad he wouldn't come to us, as there's a big empty place in our hearts that the right doggie could fill. He was inclined to follow pretty closely behind a young boy who was walking around visiting the site, and seemed sad when the boy left, so we're praying that some family with children will eventually find and "seduce" him into getting good care.

The story of Petit Jean, and how it got its name... The legend is that there were a group of French explorers coming to what is now Arkansas in the early 1700's, and that one of them was engaged to marry a young woman. She was concerned about his visit to the New World, and decided to stow away dressed as a man, to be near to him. Because she was so small, the other sailors called her "Petit Jean." Her identity was hidden for a long time, as the explorers traveled the Arkansas River, and worked for awhile with the Indians there. Just before they were to leave to return to France, she became deathly ill, and revealing her identity, asked to be returned to the mountains of Arkansas. She was carried up there by the Indians, and died as the French group was embarking to return to France. A sad but sweet story!

From Petit Jean, we traveled toward Memphis, Tennessee, with a stop in Little Rock. Of course we know about Little Rock, with Bill Clinton's presidency. So interesting to go into a new city. Southern cities are not as "big" as Boston, well, perhaps with the exception of Montgomery, Alabama, which had very impressive architecture, and was a heck of a lot cleaner than Boston. Mostly we are surprised - the cities look small, with very few high-rises, perhaps this is due to the threat of tornadoes, which we in the north just don't get.

Little Rock reminded us of Augusta, Maine, with an impressive State House, but surrounded by poor homes. We visited Little Rock Central High School, where in 1957, nine black students attempted to join the all-white student body, and all hell broke loose. The Federal government had passed desegregation laws, but these were being challenged by Arkansas' state legislatures. To block the entry of the students, the governor had called in the National Guard, ostensibly to "protect" them (sounds like Fort Smith with its "protection" of native Americans!). President Eisenhower sent in Federal troops to ensure that the students would be allowed to attend the school, and there were some very ugly scenes, captured by the then-new medium of television.

Dave and I have early memories of all this, and our sense of the school's facade was surprisingly accurate. But it is much, much bigger than we imagined, and the building and grounds are stunning. There's a small commemorative garden now, with arches that feature photos of the now-fully integrated school. Very heartening to witness the juxtaposition of early images of violence with contemporary ones of black and white students sitting side-by-side, smiling together.

This trek to the south has been sooooo informative....

We stopped for lunch at the Whole Hog Cafe, as the word "hog" has become a delightfully essential facet of our trek, so anything with the word in it captures our attention. We had terrific barbecue there! Oh, if only there was a great barbecue place in Maine!

We are in the Bible Belt, no question. The billboards remind us constantly of the status of our souls: "Jesus Saves!", one proclaims. Another: "If you died today, where would you spend eternity?" And my favorite (not): "Use the rod on your children, and save their lives." Holy Moley... To quote so many others these days, WWJD? (What Would Jesus Do?) Would He approve of people thwacking little ones??? I can't imagine so...

Amazing what one experiences when traveling through this country. We are unified, the "United" States, and yet, we are so, so different. Somehow we've come to agree, for the most part, to live together as a whole. Synthesized. Like family, consisting of unique individuals, yet with a coherent pact.

We ended our day at the Mississippi once more. Memphis this time. Blues country. We'll get down to Beale Street this evening, but until sundown, we're just going to watch the barges travel up and down the river. It is just amazing how much stuff moves from someplace to someplace else on this river! But it's even more amazing to watch the sun set on the western shore.

Wow.

Pray

Our Saturday night in Oklahoma City was spent listening to rain patter on our aluminum roof - love that sound! The storm never got huge or scary - just lots of rain with occasional flashes of lightning, and we're accustomed to that. So with umbrellas in tow, we left this morning to visit the Oklahoma City Memorial, built for the people lost in the terrorist bombing in 1995.

We remember the event; in fact, were watching TV the morning it happened and was first being announced, and like other Americans, we were saddened and shocked by such a senseless act. But we were far, far away, and one reacts quite differently when one stands in the area where something like this has taken place.

The Memorial is beautifully done. Apparently the team who decided on the design consisted not only of building and city professionals, but also family members of those who died, survivors of the bombing, and people involved in rescue efforts. There are 2 large gates, one at each part of the park, with the times 9:01 and 9:03 written on them, representing the moment just before the bomb went off, and then the moment after. There is a large reflecting pool between them, very soothing. To the right of the pool, are the empty chair sculptures, representing each of the 168 men, women, and children, who lost their lives. The bases of these light at night, which we didn't see - it must be beautiful.

There is a sweet "children's wall," where children from many places sent tiles they'd made expressing their sorrow about the bombing. And on the outside gate, thousands of visitors have left little mementos expressing care, prayers written on whatever paper they had in their purses, etc. So many of these have been left over the years, that periodically the items are removed and added to the archives of the nearby Memorial Museum, to make room for the the new ones that continue to be added.

It's a sad place, but the dignity of the Memorial is very heartening...

From here, we drove to the nearby town of Norman, to visit the Sam Noble Museum of Natural History. The displays of dinosaurs were unbelievable! Most of the remains, which are of course millions of years old, were found in Oklahoma, including one (forgetting the name of it - much more complex Latin than "Brontosaurus!"), that is the largest specimen of its kind in the world. To get the scope of the height of this mega-guy, one must imagine the top floor of a 3-story house! To see the bones of mammoths, saber-toothed tigers, even camels! - it's amazing to consider that these animals once roamed North America.

We ended the night with a very good couple of steaks at the Cattlemen's Steakhouse, down in the Stockyard section of OK City. Now, I don't like stockyards. I'm a pacifist who at home buys "green," organic foods, almost no red meat, just some occasional free-range chicken. Ah, we're on vacation, in the West, and we wanted steaks. It's something Dave and I haven't resolved, an inconsistency in our lives. So surrounded by the many folks in cowboy hats in booths beside us, we took a moment to bow our heads, and like the Indians we've been learning about, thank the cattle for giving up their lives for us. Maybe others will think that's silly, but alas.

This quote, which was on the wall at the Sam Noble Museum (and which I love), perhaps speaks to the way each of us, even the vegetarians among us, must consume some form of life in order to live. It's by Paul B. Sears:

The face of Earth is a graveyard. And so it has always been... Each living thing restores when it dies that which has been borrowed to give form and substance to its brief day in the sun. What is lent Earth has been used by countless generations of plants and animals now dead, and will be required by countless others in the future.

Amen.

Clouds

Our first full day in Taos was all about the clouds.

A note: Someone just mentioned to us that he had just realized that if you click on the pictures in this blog they will open larger copies of themselves. If you have not known that, we aplologize, but try it. The pictures are worth seeing larger.

We awoke Thursday morning in the very nice RV park we'd located with the help of our travel angels at nightfall on Wednesday, to find ourselves surrounded by mountains which were mostly socked in - our first truly gray day in the entire trip.. And yet it would appear that even gray days are not gloomy in New Mexico. The clouds were beautiful - great black and charcoal-colored poofs, hanging low over the city. Gorgeously gray.

We expected it to be an "indoor day," museums mostly, as there wouldn't be much visibility for chasing vistas. So with a light rain beginning to fall, we ducked in for a slow breakfast at the Bent Street Deli, a nice place with tables overlooking the downtown streets. Good food, and a good place to people-watch as tourists (not many this time of year) visited the adobe shops selling all kinds of things. As mentioned before, I am not a "vacation-shopper," but now must confess to a serious binge at the PAPER STORE we walked past on our way to visit the Plaza. When I say paper, I mean ooooooh. Wrapping paper, notebooks, pens, cards, journals, everything in the funky styles I love, that are generally hard to find. And then, reeling from that thrill, just across the way, a FABRIC STORE with likewise hard-to-find, funky fabrics. If Jessica had been with me (making it even more perfect), it would have been the ultimate mother-daughter shopping experience, as these are the sorts of things she loves, too. That's okay, Mama bought her some goodies. ;-)

Once outside again, we noticed sun dappling the adobe here and there, yet still the clouds overhead were dark. The small glimpses of light overruled, museums forgotten! - off we flew, toward the mountains. We began with a trip to breath-taking Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, where the water far, far below appears green, and snakes forever within the deep grooves carved over thousands of years. It was very cold here, and windy enough that one had to bend into it to not be blown over, yet it was hard to leave the grace and beauty of the river, and we spent a long time walking along paths following its banks.

Our next foray was onto the "Enchanted Circle," a scenic road from Taos, going all the way around Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico. Again, so beautiful (how often have I used this word in describing New Mexico?). The vistas were stunning, and so variable - we were delighted to find ourselves eventually in the Red River Valley. (From this valley they say you are going...) We know now why it has this name, as the soil here is indeed a deep red.
Also on our drive we saw our first bluebirds, just as rich a blue as one can imagine.

And then, as we would up the circle, a few sprinklings of snow, gently falling on the grazing herds, so lovely.

We decided on a little dinner as we headed back to our Airstream at sunset. We'd heard about a place called Stakeout Grill & Bar, and thought that sounded nice and low-key, something like our roadhouse experience in Madrid, with hopefully another guy on a washtub bass. Steak and a beer kind of place. The location could have been used for a stakeout, as we meandered almost 2 miles on a scrubby dirt road to get there. Yet we were surprised on entering the place to find it super-elegant, with exquisite decor, Miles Davis on the sound system, and an Italian waiter who had all the specifics about proper wines to drink with one's steak. I was in sweat pants, but people in New Mexico don't seem to mind. My first elegant dinner in sweat pants; I hope never to do that again.

When we'd approached the Stakeout, the low-hanging clouds had turned red, a fitting fiery winding down at day's end. When we left, after a couple of hours, there wasn't a cloud in sight. The big black sky was full of stars, more than I've ever seen before, and ten times brighter. Halfway down the dirt road, we stopped the car, turned off all the lights, stepped outside, looked up, and simply stared.

History Lesson

What better way to begin a chilly Tuesday morning than with a scrambled-egg, Jack cheese, and apple-smoked-bacon enchilada? I can't think of any... Cafe Pasquales, right in the heart of Santa Fe, does it soooo well, with great decor and atmosphere to boot. Dave had a chorizo & egg burrito, and a big happy mug of cappucino. Whenever will we have the opportunity to enjoy something like this again?

So aside from this terrific breakfast place, downtown Santa Fe is a bit of a disappointment. Yes, there is the lovely Plaza, with the Palace of the Governors, which we visited. It is the oldest public building in continuous use in the U.S., and it currently houses a good museum which provides an overview of Santa Fe history. Well-done, and interesting.

Downtown Santa Fe is about shopping. Which is not quite why we travel, although that didn't keep me from hitting a few toy stores - there ARE the grandchildren to think about, after all. But we determined not to spend much time there, and instead drove off to find the Museum of International Folk Art.

Now THIS was fun. A conglomeration of thousands of folk-arty objects, so many of them of the small "knick-knack" sort, which I love. Little people/creatures/doodads from all over the world, made of every material known to man. This is what my house would look like if I let myself go full-steam with collecting these kinds of things! And masks for every kind of ceremony imaginable. Even a mask that looked a bit like Ernest Borgnine. Now what kind of ceremony does that bring to mind?

But the hands-down highlight of the day (if not of our trip so far), was visiting the Bandelier National Monument. This is the area where ancient Anasazi people built their homes into the rock - which, by the way, is comprised of hardened volcanic ash, called "tuff." It's still quite permeable (as the photos show), and the natural holes formed in the cliffs by years of erosion provided native peoples with ready-made rooms, and they made the most of these, eventually building "condos" of sorts around them, which they would enter via ladders. These homes were on the south side of the surrounding mountains, which would have given them warmth in the cool winters. Down below in the "plains" area, they built more of these homes in a large circle - David and I think the elders and infirm must have lived there, as it is quite a feat to get up into some of the cliff houses! So much straight-up climbing to do, must have been reserved for the young 'uns!

All along the cliffs, just above the larger "room" holes, you can see rows of smaller holes, which is where the roof-posts of the homes were. And just above these, there are petroglyphs, which people would have chipped into the rock while standing on their roofs! Most of the cliff houses are gone now, but we were grateful to enter the couple that remain. Inside the rooms, there is old paint on the walls, and the ceilings are darkened from centuries of smoke. They are cozy, and frankly, about the size of our Airstream. It's easy to imagine that the native people lived quite comfortably here. How I would love to time-travel, and see these in their heyday - it must have been a beautiful sight.

Being in this part of the country certainly gives one such a sense of history. We New Englanders who grew up in the 1950's, learned that America was discovered by Christopher Columbus (in fourteen-hundred-ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue...), and it was "established" by the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock in 1620... and yet - hohoho! America had been peopled for thousands of years, and the Spanish had colonies in the Southwest back in the mid-1500's. Furthermore, the French had a colony in Maine in 1604, and Jamestown, Virginia, was colonized by the English before the Pilgrims got here.

So, whose interpretation of history were we reading??

Well. This is why we travel, to gain a deeper, more realistic understanding of this beautiful country. And despite its social/political complexities, it IS beautiful, and its landscape is soul-stirring. We travel to witness.

Oh, and to eat.

We're An Old Cowhand

Our Saturday spent in Albuquerque was just really, really fun. So good to be parked, and able to tootle around a new town.

We began by getting the Zeppelin to an RV repair place (trouble with water heater), and while it was being worked on, went off to have a great breakfast at funky, hometown Flying Star - we liked everything about this place. Great food and mood, but a special delight when we found a copy of the current Utne Reader, which features one of Dave's photographs of our daughter Jessie's homebirth, when she had our littlest granddaughter, Tula. (Photo taken in the apartment over our garage, LOL.)

So good to be in a great place, cherishing a photo of our family, whom we are missing VERY much. The only thing that would make this trip even better, would be if they were all here with us.

Then off to visit the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center, just in time to see a group of young Native boys perform their deer and eagle dances - it feels like a privilege to be allowed to witness this, as we understand the deep meaning these have for native peoples. I wish that Maine had as beautiful a museum/cultural center for our own native tribes, as they have such rich history, and frankly, most of us know very little about it. The exhibits here were beautifully laid out and informative. They really gave us a better understanding of this area's native history.

After picking up the Airstream and dropping it back off at the RV park, these two cowhands had the thrill of crossing over the Rio Grande, as we went on to see the Petroglyph National Monument. Petroglyphs are formed by chipping away the surface layer of stone (as opposed to pictographs, which are painted on stone). These were produced by Native peoples, starting at about 3000 years ago. The designs changed as the population changed over the centuries. Spanish shepherds in the 1600's chipped in Christian symbols, initials, etc. There are some 15,000 petroglyphs at this site, and . As you walk the paths, they are everywhere you turn. Fascinating...

And to my delight, while rambling around the stones, I came across a little sage-colored rabbit, who sat for a moment, before hopping away. I love these encounters with wildlife, and am very pleased to have NOT encountered a rattlesnake, which the park warns against!

We finished our evening with our first official romantic dinner out on this trip, at a place called /Ambrosia/ in Albuquerque's Old Town.. David had elk, which I'd never had before - it was delicious. I, good ol' scallops. Nice to put on a dress. Food makes us so happy, and this food made us especially happy.

A good day.

Let's Drink to the Salt of the Earth

This is the cheerful face, and those the competent hands, that brought our blow-out waffles-n'-eggs breakfast Tuesday morning. We were on our way to the Fort Worth Zoo, so knew we'd have the opportunity to waddle off about one-16th of the calories! Delicious, and we just managed to keep from licking the plates.

Off to see the critters, and between exhibits we peeled off layers of clothing, as the temps rose to a sweltering (for us) 84 degrees. Alas, no armadilloes. But highlights of the place were the beautiful pink flamingoes, and a baby gibbon just learning to walk to its mother, and like a baby human, falling over and getting itself up again and again. SERIOUS cute factor, and almost as much fun watching the folks behind the Primates barrier vying for the best picture angle. An enormous gorilla sat in the sun in Rodin's "Thinker" pose, and seeing something like this makes one philosophical: are we really meant to do much more than this? Eat, sleep, poop, and ponder?

In the afternoon, we switched gears and went to the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, which is one of David's favorite museums in the world. It was designed by Japanese architect Tadao Ando, and is a Zen water garden of a building; the perfect setting for modern painting and sculpture.

It has a terrific show right now called "Pretty Baby." My daughter Jess and her homeschooling loop would go nuts over this one. Art with a childhood theme, almost surreal photographs of little ones by Loretta Lux, and a roomful of actual paintings by Yoshitomo Nara, a favorite in our for family, as his infamous child character with its wide-apart eyes looks almost EXACTLY like our littlest granddaughter Tula.
He usually paints the character "grumpy," and that makes his work even funnier and dearer to us.

Supper was enchiladas and fajitas at Joe T. Garcia's, and another waddle home to the Airstream. We have a long, two-day drive to New Mexico ahead, mostly thru' what used to be Texas ranch country. Who knows? Maybe it still is.

Bright and early.

Family

Well, we were not lifted and transported, Oz-like, from Louisiana into Arkansas on Saturday. A friendly cop at the truck stop where we parked for a good part of the day, in turns watching the skies for spinning dervishes, reading, and tootling on the Internet, recommended that we either stay put, or if driving, be ready to abandon the RV and scoot into the lowest ditch we could find along the road. "Do NOT try to outrun the thing - it WILL catch up with you," he warned.

This kind of talk is scary to Mainers, whose primary experiences with tornadoes are the Wicked Witch and the cow scene in Twister. So we stayed put.

Around 4:00 p.m. the skies had cleared enough, and we were bored enough, that the thought of throwing ourselves into a ditch had become less daunting, so we took a two-hour drive, mostly highway, to Texarkana, Arkansas, where our nephew Scott lives. The long stretch allowed us to get almost to the end of Dickens' Tale of Two Cities, which I have been reading aloud as David drives. Only the prospect of seeing a beloved nephew could have caused us to put down a good book just before the last chapter!

We had such a fun visit with Scott and his daughter (our grand-niece) Allyssa, Scott's girlfriend Danielle and her little boy Dominick, Danielle's sister Domino and her son Gavin, and boyfriend Brandon.

Domino graciously cooked for us. (Life lesson: anyone who will cook for you, especially without knowing you, is performing an act of grace. They are worthy of a special place in your hearts.) She made the lightest, sweetest fried chicken we have ever had in our lives (popcorn chicken, I think they called it), served with a spicy sauce. OOOOH! We must have eaten 30 pieces each!

Little Allyssa holds her own against two rugged-sweet boys; Nicky is the cutest little guy, very dear; and Gavin speaks easily and earnestly with adults. And then: the opportunity to hold and play with little ones (we miss the grandchildren!). All ADORABLE. Sooooo nice to get a kid-fix; little hugs are the best hugs.

After the visit, we made it an early night, as we lost our power after the first 15 minutes of our current episode of Six Feet Under. Arkansas' high winds rocked the Zeppelin, and so us, to sleep.

Sunday morning, more time with Scott, Danielle, and the children, and also Scott's mom Carla and her little grandson. It was a beautiful morning in a park in Texarkana, brisker than it's been at only 60 degrees, but with the sky a perfect blue, it was just right for feeding ducks and swinging little ones on a tire swing. But more - an opportunity to share memories with Carla about when our own children were toddlers - so very many years ago, and now we are grandmamas (and Dave a grandpapa!).

And so on to Texas, literally just a few steps away (Texarkana borders on Texas and Arkansas, and is close to Louisiana's border, hence its name), with a stop at Randy's Smokehouse, and a barbecued brisket so tender, it could scarcely be kept on the fork. Our expressions of enjoyment were met with a gorgeous but flat, "Thank y'all."

Texas has its own unique landscape, as the flat land we've driven in our last few days of travel, begins to express itself in low, soft hills. Trees here are short, scrubby, and full of thorns - we joke that this is an environment where the evolution of trees is just one step above the cactus.

"Can you imagine Clint Eastwood just coming over that ridge?" David asks. Why yes, I can...

We are parked once again beside a pretty lake, where we will reside for several days, as we turn our attentions to more high-energy doins' in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Wonder of wonders - we've actually unhooked the car! Wee-hah!