Mission Church in El Paso County

Snow in the Mountains

Taken today on the road between Fort Davis and Valentine!

Christmas Fete at the Truck Stop

Hope you enjoyed the Second Mile Advent Calendar blog.

This has been a wonderful Christmas.

Yesterday on our drive, the grass nearly glowed with buttery and coppery colors. Today we saw coyote and muledeer, eagle and roadrunner. The holiday has been calm and peaceful and restoring. And fun.

We'd heard the truckstop at the Plateau exit had a great turkey dinner. Always up for an adventure, we thought it was worth a try. The huge meal was covered with gravy, yielding the burden of color to the single lonely yam. It was pretty much what you'd expect from a truckstop holiday meal--a big plate of salty food--but the employees seemed to be in good cheer. And as a result, we had fun, too.

How I Spent My Christmas Eve, morning fog with snow on the ground and mid 30s to brilliant sunshine and balmy high 50s

And we have snow!

Ambassador of Cheer

Some people are so remarkably good at what they do, word can't help but get around. Sheila is one of those folks. Her husband, Paul, worked so hard to get the coffee shop going and he's the backbone of the place, but Sheila is one of the business' most valuable assets.

You may never have met her before, but when you open up the front door of the coffee shop you hear Sheila's "Hi, sweetie!"

I've had board members come through town and stop at the coffee shop on my recommendation. They always say, "they're so NICE there!" I've heard tourists say, "that lady at the front door makes you feel like you're home and she doesn't know me at all!" Word is getting around about Sheila.

Paul is warm to everyone, smart, and tells a great story. People appreciate his presence and think he's fun, and they like his shrimp and hot sauce. Sheila makes you feel like you're one of the family.

They say everyone needs three places: home, work, and a third place. This is why Starbucks is so popular and why Cheers was so believable. In lieu of church or grandma's house or a community center, Starbucks or Cheers functions as a home away from home, "where everyone knows your name." The Blue Quail Coffee Shop is that for me. And Paul and Sheila make it that way.

....And Here.....

The Ernst Tinaja Trail in Big Bend National Park

A Year Ago I Was Here

An old movie set on the banks of the Rio Grande in Big Bend Ranch State Park.

By Popular Demand

There were requests after yesterday's post to actually see the Holly Hobby nativity scene. So here it is!

Why do they look so sad?

Judge

I got a call yesterday morning from Andrea at the Convention Center, "Beth, are you busy tonight? Want to be a judge for the Residential Holiday Light Contest?" Oh YEAH, I'd love to!

The other judge, Susan, was staying at the KOA Kampground in her motor home. Van Horn likes to do that--when there's something to judge, they enlist an enthusiastic and friendly tourist for an impartial opinion. Since I can't yet match Van Horn residents to their homes, particularly after dark, I was tapped for the job too.

Susan is a typical traveler in our town. She and her husband sold their home and all their possessions in Virginia earlier this year and are traveling the country, trying to soak up life, "before we're too old to do it." A former real estate agent, she's got a friendly attitude and an eager smile and she LOVES to talk. In a few short weeks here, she's met a lot of Van Horn folks, but like me, she doesn't have any idea where individual folks live. Her husband got a temporary job on a road crew, so they'll be here through the end of January.

After Brenda and Andrea treated us to steak dinners at the Cattleman's Restaurant, they drove us around town in the city van. Susan and I were officially armed with clip boards and rating sheets. We judged decorations on "originality, creativity, the amount of decoration, the quantity of lights (I guess more is better), and workmanship." Most of the homes had the same decorations--probably all purchased from the local Dollar Store--just rearranged into different configurations. There was some creativity, even in that. One family positioned a huge inflated Santa and a huge inflated Snowman on either side of their volleyball net, getting extra points for whimsy.

A handful of families made their own decorations, getting big points from me. One family set up a drive-in theatre in their yard, so cars could pull up to watch Christmas cartoons projected on their mobile home. One family made a tree of pie tins. One family made a creche scene out of plywood, with Holly Hobby characters filling the roles of the usual wisemen, etc. Yes, that's more than a little dreadful, but they tried.

Some families are clearly trying to outdo the Griswolds in the Christmas Vacation movie; they are pushing the wattage. Normally we pride ourselves on our clear dark star-gazing skies. I can tell you, we won't be seeing many stars until after the holidays.

Brief Notes to Recently Heard From Friends

A special hello to Ann in California for the nice card and photo letter including pictures of her handsome sons! How long have we been friends? Since 1968? Or is it 69? I love the fact that we're still in touch. Thank you!

Thanks to Kathryn in Hawaii for emailing a pic of her beautiful boy on the beach. Your encouragement means so much to me.

Dick, sorry we can't have lunch together this holiday! Enjoy the shrimp in Baytown!

Doreen, your package arrived safely. I love it, and am so very happy to have some of Patti's work. I'll have to bring it to the office because Daisy is WAY too interested in it. It is too precious to become a cat toy!

Steve and Becky, wishing you good thoughts this holiday.

I'm painfully behind with every obligation. I promise to email you all separately as the dust settles. More later, I promise!

Van Horn's Photographic History

About a year ago, I wrote a grant to have our local museum's photograph collection digitized and included in the University of North Texas Library's "Portals to Texas History" project.

Sunday, we finished the metadata work on nearly 500 photographs, and they are available for viewing online. Now researchers, school children, tourists, former Van Hornites (yes, that's what they're called), geneologists and local residents can see their visual history.

This is my favorite image of them all.

Click here to see the entire collection.

Decorated for the Holidays

One of the things I love about the Van Horn Cemetery is the changing nature of grave memorials.

Over the past few days, some new holiday decorations have appeared at the cemetery. Celebrating holidays with departed family members is a Mexican and Hispanic tradition.

Sometimes I see Mexican funerary traditions exhibited on the graves of people with Anglo surnames, as is the case in the first photo.

And a close look (click on any of the photos to enlarge) at the last photo reveals a harvest or Halloween decoration in the form of a pumpkin, in addition to the Christmas garland on the tree.

Halvah

Just returned from the monthly delivery of the natural foods buying co-op, loaded with my butternut squash ravioli, roasted soy nuts, chai tea, good coffee, cheddar cheese, and edamame. Our local grocery store is regularly so disappointing, the monthly delivery of our specialty items feels like Christmas.

One of the blessings of living here is settling into the basics. It is possible to be satisfied with less, to enjoy time without even thinking shopping, because...frankly....there aren't places to shop. Shopping isn't recreation anymore. And in the absence of good fresh ones, frozen green beans sometime taste pretty good.

It is no revelation that food is a powerful emotional trigger. I was reminded of that this week in Austin. Some of us had lunch on Thursday at a Middle Easterns restaurant and there was halvah on the menu.

My grandmother introduced me to halvah. Her father, an attorney, was sometimes paid by his Middle Eastern clients during the depression with halvah, a confection made of crushed pressed, sweetened sesame seeds wrapped up in oily brown paper. Eating it in the middle of a restaurant within spitting distance of the Texas capital building felt like home. It felt like Grandmas's warm kitchen and laugh. It felt like Grandpa watching football while reading the Wall Street Journal. It felt like family.

A Practically Perfect Day

• Woke up late and feeling good for a change, no back pain and no flu!
• Ran 4 1/2 miles
• Temperatures in the mid-60s, sunny, with a slight breeze
• Good food
• Volunteer computer work for the local museum
• Worked on my next piece
• Talked with friends
• A soft rose sunset behind the mountains

Only thing missing: YOU!

Step One Completed

Arrived home late late last night from a long day in Austin. We had 15 people from across the state--our regional board members, representatives of chambers and city economic development departments and one mayor speaking on our program's behalf at the state department of transportation commission meeting.

It is unlikely that any immediate resolution to our funding woes will result from our combined effort yesterday. But we sent a unifed message to our own funding agency, the press, and folks back in our regions that the program is important to rural Texas economies. Our good showing gives us a stronger foundation from which to form our next set of strategies to fight this.

That's all we could hope to accomplish yesterday, and it looks as if we did it.

Ojo

"I'm not sure I believe in ojo," Andrea said on the way to Austin yesterday. "It is a Mexican old wife's tale."

We were talking about her kids, and a photo of them in folklorico costumes that had been in Van Horn's old promotional brochure. They are beautiful kids.

"My daughter wanted to dance with the other girls, but she was too small." Andrea told us. "But she went to the classes and she was better than the bigger girls. The teacher said,"Your girl has to dance, get her a dress, or get me material and I'll sew her a costume."

So Andrea got some pretty orange fabric and the teacher sewed her daughter a costume. On the day of the folklorico dance performance, the daughter danced beautifully. "But she got sick right after.....it was the ojo," Andrea said.

"Ojo means eye, and putting the ojo means seeing with envy," Andrea said. "If you look at someone and want it, you have to touch it or else that person will get sick."

"So, that's why our blonde daughters were always being touched when they were little," Jeff said.

"Yes, so they didn't get sick. There are some people who know how to cure the ojo, Brenda's mom knows how to do it, but I don't know exactly how to do it. You run an egg over the sick person's body in a particular way, you run it all over their body, and when you're done the egg is practically hardboiled from the heat of the envy. And the sick person is better. If you break open the egg you can see the red spot of blood. If the spot is big, there was a lot of the 'ojo.' But I don't know if I believe it. But my daughter did get sick after she performed her dance and people liked it. Everyone said it was the ojo."

This morning we attend the state department of transportation commission meeting, the first step in our attempt to get continued funding for our program. Then the long 7 hour drive back home.

Off to Austin

Leaving for an overnight lobbying trip in Austin, the first important step in raising the money to keep my job intact. We know there won't be any immediate positive outcomes as a result of this trip, but our actions may lead to good things in the future.

Feeling nostalgic about things this morning, so I thought I'd post this of my first trip to the region.

This is on the Lost Mine Trail of Big Bend National Park in 2004.

Little Dogs

My friend Larry called to strategize this morning and offer his support. "You know what they say in the museum field, girl," he said, "it isn't the lions and tigers that get you, it is the chihuahuas nipping at your feet."

Fending off all kinds of wildlife and politicians and "helpful" volunteers today. Mostly people are pulling together in genuinely helpful ways, though, and I'm deeply, deeply grateful for their support.

Going to Austin tomorrow for a big public meeting, but I'll continue to post if I can.

The woman can't cook rice, but she can cook bread

True confession: I can't cook rice.

I dry it out, burn it, or leave it in a slush of gooey water. I've tried several recipes and instructions with "no fail" in their title to no avail. I thought the change of climate or altitude would help, but no. When I do cook it (always with the optimism that this time I'll get it right) I do so in a non-stick pan. Saves me from chipping off the inevitable burnt grains.

I can, however, bake a good loaf of bread. At our altitude, yeast-based dough rise so quickly I'm amazed that we don't have lots of great bread around. This is one of the unexpected joys of living here--dough rises like a charm. When Teresa recommended this blog with a no-knead bread recipe (originally from the New York Times) I was eager to try. http://smittenkitchen.com/2006/11/one-for-the-sling-files

At our altitude, it only took about 8 hours for the first rising rather than 12 or 18. (I love that!) This was an EASY recipe, and the results were fantastic. My loaf had fewer large bubbles, but a great texture, and a VERY pretty top. Even the day after, the bread is moist and chewy, with a hard crust. That's hard to achieve in a dry climate.

Anatomy of a piece

I have an inkling of an idea for a new piece, and that's enough for me to get started with the materials. Because this one is going to be in the Border People series, I'm painting artificial flower blossoms. First step is taking apart the silk flowers, and pinning each blossom to cardboard. Next is the first layer of textile paint. There will be several layers of color added before I'm done.

Daisy likes the heat of the worklight.

Three blocks of thought

All week, I've been remembering a sequence of thoughts I had Tuesday night as I drove to the City Council meeting.

It was already dark when I turned the corner onto Broadway. I glanced at the coffee shop, which was overly lit inside. "Hmm, Blanca's working tonight." A second later, I could see there were quite a few cars parked in the lot to the west of the coffee shop. "Great, Paul and Sheila have a good crowd tonight. I'm glad the business is going so well."

There was a large RV parked in front of the old tourist court in the next block, and a couple was spreading bedsheets over the table of knicknacks they'd set out to sell. "Guess they're calling it a night. They sure look cold out there. What a hard gig, they'll never make money doing that.....here. But, didn't I see them here last Christmas?"

Judy's burro was standing against the east wall of the laundromat in the third block. I thought, "She's in a warm place tonight; not somewhere on the side of the road. Good."

In the matter of seconds, I realized this initially bewildering and foreign town had became a place of rich familiar images, a place of people whom I know and like, a place I'd hate to leave too soon.

Chocolate Daisy

This little flower really smells like Hershey bars!

Feeling better today, but it will be a little while before I'm 100 percent. Thanks to all who've emailed me lately. I love staying in touch!

Your National Border

This is the border, the Rio Grande. On the right is Mexico, the left the United States.

Most of the border in my region is this rural, this remote. You might think you could walk across the river undetected, but I doubt it. There are only two places in the region where you can cross legally--across the crowded urban bridges of El Paso or through the sleepy small town of Presidio.

Besides visiting family, many Van Horn residents cross to go to the pharmacy or visit the dentist. Some dentists are U.S. trained and licensed, and provide equivalent care for a fraction of the price.

Even if the national fence is erected, there will be a couple of large gaps, and one of them will be across the entire southern boundary of the Texas Mountain Trail region.

I don't know if that's because so much of it is impassible (large sections of the Rio Grande shore are sheer cliffs) or if the numbers passing here are relatively low. or if our border defense technology is more sophisticated than in other areas. The reason may be entirely political; I just don't know.

Our tiny local post office is open longer hours now, because it is also serving as a passport office. After the first of the year, you'll need a passport to fly into Mexico, and by 2008 you'll need a passport to cross to Mexico by land or by sea.

Where ARE you?

I'm still under the weather, so I thought I'd go back to the basics. I'm not sure I've shared an actual MAP on the blog. So here it is!

Contrary to its actual size, Van Horn has the largest city label and here appears to be in the center of the world!

All the way to the west is El Paso. the green areas are the Guadalupe Mountains National Park and Big Bend National Park.

Click for larger view.

Practically Hitchcockian

The vultures on the water tower are watching YOU.

Click on the photo for a closer view.

Rural vs. Urban

Last night the Van Horn City Council voted to release funds to have two city employees accompany me to Austin next week to give public comment against the diversion of transportation enhancment funding from rural communities (including my program) to the cities for "congestion relief." I kind of want to say, "move out of the city, people, that will solve your congestion problems! " and "suck it up and take the bus!"

We have an uphill battle on our hands trying change anything in the almighty powerful state Department of Transportation, but we're going to give it a fight.

Lettuce Farming, Van Horn style

Thanks to the strong sunlight in the south-facing window in the hallway, this actually does work. If I plan ahead, I can raise my own greens to supplement my grocery expeditions in the city.

dang it

The virus I was exposed to over the holiday has taken hold. I've been working from bed this morning, but even that seems too strenuous at the moment. I'm closing up shop for today, so I'll have to post twice tomorrow to make up for missing today's Advent entry. Things will seem better tomorrow!

Just a pretty picture to start the day

So now I become a lobbyist

Friday I learned that despite our funding agency's assurances (even up through Tuesday of last week) that our program would receive three full years of funding, all payments from the state (including my salary, folks) will be yanked at the end of August 2007. We're not being singled out--all ten heritage trail programs across the state are in the same boat.

I worked all weekend to get ready for a full-on lobbying effort directed towards the state department of transportation and the state historical commission. This morning we're mobilizing our board and just about everyone I've met since I arrived here last year, to contact legislators and government agencies to plead our case for continued support--at least until we get our 501 c 3 designation and we can pursue funding of our own.

Yes, living on grant-based funding is precarious, and I knew that going in. But this is coming far sooner than anyone ever expected. I still have work I want to accomplish here, but I have to face facts: if you come across a job opportunity and think I might be a good fit, please pass on the info! I'm digging in for a fight, but it is a fight we may very well lose.

Even though I got my degree at Illinois, and spent 2o years at the University of Iowa, this morning (with a nod to Michigan) I feel as feisty as a WOLVERINE!!! I'm ready to rumble!

Disneyland is a couple of steps in the wrong direction

Yesterday I went to the new flagship store of Whole Foods in Austin, a place I was excited to visit since I consider myself an enthusiastic foodie. Though I don't have a place to garden right now, I like to feel close to the planting of seeds and to the harvest, and I like to make interesting food from scratch. Every place I travel, I look for "essentials" to pack in the cooler in the back of my car for the drive home because things like leeks and fresh figs and spectacular salad greens are impossible to get in Van Horn. And coffee, yeah, I like a good rich coffee, and I'm not satisfied if it comes from a can.

Pulling into the complex I got my first clue this was going to be an interesting experience. There was an escalator up to the store, but what really caught my eye was the down escalator for shoppers and their carts, a moving walkway angling from the store to the parking garage below. The place was so HUGE. The produce section alone was the size of the Coralville New Pi, and the seafood section was the size of the Iowa City store, I kid you not.

This place was the Disneyland of food. I thoroughly enjoy picking out just the right blue cheese (Maytag!) and deciding which freshly made loaf of bread to bring home, but when you can buy cinnamon vanilla macademia nuts from the hot nut bar, you've gone too far for my sensibilities.

I don't want to buy from a Disneyland of food any more than I do from a Super Walmart. Smaller is better, even if the choices are more limited. How far have we come from the harvest?

Border People: Tatiana and Lilliana

I'm interested in the graves of people who are connected in life and in death, a theme of Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology and my own Border People series. This pair of crosses in Van Horn inspired, Border People: Tatiana and Lilliana.

Florence and Ruth, my grandfather's maiden aunts lived together their entire lives in the same neighborhood in Detroit. These school teachers wore flowing, flowery ugly dresses of old old women and thick opaque hosiery and sensible shoes. Their hair tightly coiffed against their heads in a fashion completely beyond my comprehension. They seemed ancient to me, but they also seemed lively and fun. Sometimes pick and needle each other. One Sunday after dinner, Florence seemed go on and on about how much the sisters loved each other and trusted each other. "Why, we even trust each other to not read each other's diaries," said Florence. Ruth's face told a different story. So the stitching shows Florence saying, "I love my sister," and Ruth saying, "She read my diary."

It sure feels like the holidays

Just a couple of days ago, I was wearing shorts, sandals and a sleeveless shirt around Houston. Yesterday as I was leaving for Austin for training, the temperature dropped twenty degrees and it started POURING. We'll get up to the mid-fifties today, but it is below freezing as I write this around 6:15 am. Brrr, I'm not used to this!

Last year I wore my winter coat four times. One of the great things about the region is the climate..we almost always have terrific weather. Clear blue skies, cool nights and warm days, that's what our winters are like most of the time.

Today I learn about the funding shifts in the state and how they'll affect our program. We always planned to build an organization structured for sustainability and not reliant on just one funding stream, so philosophically the Mountain Trail is ready to take on the challenge. But it may feel like we're wearing snowshoes in deep snow for awhile.

Holiday Present

Among my favorite childhood memories of the holiday season are the advent calendars we'd use to count down to Christmas. Every day we'd get to open up a little window to reveal a festive image. I hope to do that this year for you all. Look forward to an entry every day starting tomorrow. (Sometimes I might post late late late in the day, but I will try to post every day until Christmas!)

Happy December!

Lassie and the Rescue of the Frozen Food

I got a call from Jeff yesterday, who's been looking in on Daisy while I'm traveling. There's been some feline mischief at the apartment while I've been away. She's really a pretty good cat, not prone to getting in trouble. Sure she likes to jump up ON things she's not supposed to--the table, the counter, the stove, the refrigerator, anything tall and offering a warm perch so she can survey the quiet apartment and plot against her imaginary foes. (Like the evil yoga mat.) Sometimes I find evidence of her jumping up--something is askew on the counter, or the freezer door is ever s0 slightly open when it shouldn't be. When I'm home she rarely attempts such heights, as she knows she'll get scolded.

But the big girl (that would be me) is away, and so I'm sure she feels she can get away with just about anything. "I can jump high and big girl won't know!"

Daisy is pretty self-sufficient, so cat sitters mostly just need to check the tub when I'm away. Daisy plays with her water, so the only reasonable place to leave her something to drink is in the bathtub. I leave her two tupperware containers full of water, and she usually topples one or both of them so she can enjoy the excitement of watching the water go down the drain. Cat sitters keep them filled so she doesn't have to resort to drinking out of the toilet.

Yesterday, Jeff checked the tub and noticed Daisy was unusually affectionate and vocal. She just cried and cried, and he couldn't figure out what she wanted. She walked to the center of the apartment and continued to cry and was lovey-dovey, and he was responding with generous pets but she kept on crying. He was just starting to say to himself, "What is it, girl?" when he noticed the package of (previously) frozen ground turkey on the floor of the kitchen, and the open door of the freezer. As soon as he picked up the package of thawing meat and closed the freezer door, Daisy turned her tail and walked away.

That was it for affectionate behavior towards Jeff. She got her point across, and he's taken to calling her "Lassie."

Happy Thanksgiving!

Border People: Sheltered by the man I would have become.

We ask that "What if?" question of ourselves all the time. I sure do.

This piece was initially inspired by the story of the sound coming from the boy's grave, which I posted several months back. Here's what I wrote at the time--

Maybe it is my affection for 1950s science fiction movies, but Van Horn has always inspired imaginings of giant spiders created by scientists at the spaceport, crawling over the mountains to devour Van Hornians. I cast myself, of course, as the girl scientist or the girl reporter in the story. It is just a fun way to entertain myself, these thoughts.

Yesterday was a weird day. My back was a little sore so I stopped to walk during my morning run in the cemetery. As I passed a grave, I noticed a strange radio transmission-like sound coming from the ground. I've been going by this spot 4-5 times a week for months and had never heard anything like it before but it was definitely coming from the grave itself. Not wanting to move the memorial objects, including piles of toys-it was the grave of a 14 year old boy-and artificial and real flowers, I didn't want to poke around. I came back to the grave a couple of times, just to make sure I wasn't crazy, and everytime the strange sound still came up from the ground.

So I left a sheepish-sounding voicemail with an acquaintance, a state trooper whom I trust. I couldn't wrap my head around what I was hearing, and I thought Bruce could at least tell me if he thought there was something criminal in nature going on at the cemetery. And I put it out of my mind.

Then a tiny older lady wandered into my office asking for "the person who could tell me about this town." She said she wanted information about things to do, and vacant lots because she was thinking of moving either to Van Horn or San Antonio. Okay, a little strange. I gave her some brochures, and then I noticed her feet. Bare feet. Calloused bare feet. She was perfectly normally dressed, and then I looked down and thought, "I've got a weird one here." I told her if she was looking for property she should check the Convention Center, and I'd be happy to walk her there. On the way to see Brenda and Andrea next door, she stopped for a full minute to rub her styrofoam cup all over the holly bush by the front door. "Holly isn't a good friend," she said.

Later Bruce called me back. He was patient with my crazy story and immediately assured me he didn't think the sound was related to something criminal. If it had been a drop point for contraband he said, the criminals would have done everything they could to make it unobtrusive and not call attention to the spot. He was stymied too, and I'm sure thought I was a little nuts, until he asked who's grave was making the sound. When I told him he said, "Oh, this makes more sense." Bruce's theory is that the family buried an electronic device, like a radio in the casket or above the casket sometime since the boy died in April 2005. With all the rain we've been having, water seeping into the ground might have affected the radio causing it to turn on. The boy had had leukemia for a long time, and the death was very hard on the family and the community. Knowing that families here feel a very strong connection to the departed, and knowing they still consider them as a living part of the family, this made perfect sense to me.And this morning the grave was silent again.

It struck me that for his family, that boy will always be 13, but they undoubtably wonder who he might have become had he not gotten sick.

I stitched a suggestion of a male form in yellow blossoms, who is holding or sheltering or gently swinging the boy in his hands. He is out of clear view, obscured by the vines and the blossoms and petals. But the boy remains a boy.

Border People: Lupe Rests

The Border People series was inspired by the Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters, a 1916 collection of more than 240 interlocking poems about the lives and deaths of individuals in a small town.

I think we find shelter and comfort and belonging from unexpected places. My regular runs in the cemetery allow me the chance to see the animals of the desert and get a full view of the mountains, and I feel watched over by them both.

Over the past year, I've progressed from being, "who's that driving the silver Subaru?" to "that girl from the Trail," to "that friend of Paul's and Sheila's who hangs out at the coffee shop every now and then." When the local newspaper interviewed me recently, they called me, "our own." The guy at the hardware store calls me, "Miss Nobles," as does the lady at the bank. And I've learned to recognize other community members by sight--the doctor, the Baptist preacher, the lady with the flowershop who is married to the assistant postmaster, the lady at the gas station who lives off the grid and totes her water in by truck.

This is "Border People: Lupe Rests." And the stitching reveals the words: "Lupe Rests. They never asked her name, but they watched over her."

"Lupe" is one of the pieces on display at SOFA Chicago last weekend. I made it deliberately rumpled and soft-looking like bed linen. Most of it is a beautifully rough, slightly irridescent silk stitched together by hand. I appliqued silks, cotton, velvet (around the edges), felt, hand-dyed ribbon. Lupe is mostly hand-embroidered with some machine-embroidery on her bodice. Her skirt came from my favorite rayon dress, which finally utterly wore out after many years of service. Most fun for me, was hand-painting artificial flower blossoms with transparent and irridescent textile paint. I sewed them on the piece with french knots. All in all, the piece is approximately 13" x 18", one of my largest ever.

A Collective Gasp from the Audience....

....was audible when I showed them this photo in my slide talk at SOFA. It was fun to hear that--their appreciation of the unexpected beauty of the land.

I'm back home in Van Horn now, and in the next few days I'll post entries about the work I showed in Chicago. It was a good trip to the Windy City (though VERY cold and wet!) and to Houston.

Winter is here. Our high today is expected to reach just 61 degrees!

Since I'm going to be gone for awhile, a few November wildflowers to tide you over

Some of my favorite altars - Day of the Dead

I love the political expresssion, the homage to Frida Kahlo, the manipulations of the photographs in the floor pyramid display (click on the photo for a closer view), and for the range of items left for the soldier (candles, Almond Joys, candles, flowers, and skulls).

Day of the Dead - traditional altar items

Click on each photo for a closer view:

Photographs of those passed

Candles

Marigolds (whose scent is thought to attract the dead)

Pan de Muerto (a sweetbread)

Sugar skulls

Papel Picado (cut paper banners)

More Day of the Dead photos - Skeleton Drawings

Click on each photo for a closer view.

Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos)

Last week I was in El Paso for the Day of the Dead festival. As it happens, my sister was in town on business so she was able to view some of the altars with me.

I was deeply moved by these displays, and intrigued as the objects left as memorials and offerings mirrored the items family members leave on the graves in Van Horn.

Though it is somewhat presumptuous and pretty difficult to boil down a tradition from another culture (and one for which I hold just a superficial understanding!) in just a few words, here my best shot: the Day of the Dead is an interesting blend of Cathoic and pre-Columbian tradition, and in some respects is also a harvest celebration, as it takes place on the calendar between relative abundance and a time of scarcity. The altars are offerings to those passed, as many believe the dead return home and visit loved ones, feast on their favorite foods and listen to their favorite music.

A children's book I picked up conveys the joy of this time,

"They are coming and they are going
And you seen them passing by.
They are walking over here,
They are walking over there....
These are the dead.
How happy they are!