It
is just past Mother's Day and Rio Grande City is already ablaze with daily highs over 100 degrees, white-hot skies, and a dry wind that
blankets everything in dust. Here on the ranch, calves are failing to thrive, and the ranch owner has sold many of his cattle at auction. My lovely
crimson mandevillas turn pale pink after a couple of days in the sun,
and everything else is just a crunchy, grayish brown. Even my lines
plan blueprints, tacked onto my workbench in full shade, have aged 50
years.
I
was beginning to feel like I was living in Cormac McCarthy's “The
Road,” so last
weekend, Ramon and I escaped this post-apocalyptic landscape to
Austin, Texas. I wasn't after live music, food
(although something not fried and not filled with meat sounded
awfully good), or night life. This Iowan wanted to see something,
anything green. We poked through gardens anywhere we could find
them-- in neighborhoods, restaurants, parks, and the university. It
was wonderful.
