Another Day in Marfa

A couple of months ago, maybe more, a barn swallow couple began to build a mud nest on the front wall of my house under the covered porch.

After a short time, four baby barn swallows could be seen peering over the edge of the nest. Then the feeding began. The mom and dad, from daybreak to sunset, spent their days flying back and forth without stop to feed their babies. As they approached the nest, the four babies set to screeching as if saying “me, me, me,” their mouths gaping. How did mom and day know which was the next bird to feed? Of the four babies, one was smaller and always in the back of the nest. Don’t think it got it’s fair share.

About a month later, I was about to walk out onto the front porch when I noticed about five birds flying back and forth just in front of my door. The babies had learned to fly!

If you work in front of a computer all day as I do (and even if you don’t) what a gift to witness this.

Other news on the Marfa wildlife front: a mountain lion and her cubs spotted by my neighbor in the field across from my house; the first tarantula of this season spotted today as it booked across my front lawn; one of my cactus chomped, probably by a Javelina.

Barn Swallows

Whoever lived in my house back in the days apparently used the backyard as a midden. With Zack’s help each day something new comes to the surface as he decimates the grass. So far:

(2) jingle bells, one metal and one plastic
(1) wine cork of ancient vintage
(2) pieces of violet-colored glass and (1) cobalt blue pottery shard (discovered by Lisa of Austin Street Cafe)
(1) spring from an old clothespin
(1) small white shell

and a bit of red plastic tape with the word ‘Warning’…hmmm.

Spring is here in Marfa and, much like Santa Fe, that pretty much means that winter and summer battle it out until summer wins.

The leaves are beginning to bud, the grass is sending up new shoots, I’m getting restless. Sitting at the computer gets more difficult with each new, warm day. That said, a site I designed for Getting Sites Built launched yesterday and I’m thinking it looks pretty swell: The Asia Foundation.

Now that’s done, I have plans to get back into the studio and do some new work (my gallery will be glad to hear that).

A friend and businesswoman was recently banned forever from our one (but not for long) and only local grocery store. Her offense? She complained that the shelves were often in need of a serious restocking and requests about this went unanswered. Also that some of the food was beyond its shelf date.

There are rumors floated around town as to why the shelves aren’t restocked which I won’t repeat here. Rest assured they are appropriately juicy and sordid, as all good rumors should be.

As to the shelf dates…if you find yourself in Marfa and MUST shop at our local grocery store for anything other than non-perishables, check the shelf date! A good samaritan friend of mine recently cleaned out my fridge (because I do it about once every six months or so…which appalled her) and we discovered a bottle of ketchup I had recently purchased from aforesaid store that was more than one year beyond its ‘best if used before’ date.

Driven out of a crazy work schedule to ‘shop locally’ (I usually do my grocery shopping in Alpine) I rifled through the steaks to find one that didn’t have a greenish cast, finding one that had actually (or reputedly) been packaged that day. Steak for dinner! Yippee. And I didn’t even have to drive 48 miles roundtrip to get it. Well, not so great. When I opened the package there was the distinct smell of Lysol. Being of a certain pit-bull mentality, I went ahead and cooked it. My first bite confirmed what my nose had warned: Lysol.

Lucky for us a new grocery is supposed to open soon (and it can’t be too soon). Meanwhile, a short road trip to do my shopping doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

February. Don’t like it. Never have; never will. It’s no wonder we Pisces are moody bastards. Imagine February is your first experience of life on planet earth: it’s dark, it’s cold and there’s just something slightly malevolent about the whole damned month.

So why should it be such a surprise to me that each and every Februrary I inevitably hit the proverbial brick wall? And yet it is a surprise each time it happens. I carefully construct a supremely elegant picture of who I am and what it all means when, smack! Who is it that’s left when all the things you do fall away?

When asked what we do, we answer ‘I am…’