Monday, October 29, 2007
Wah hoo, Dallas Morning News!
The folks at the Dallas Morning News have published--not one, but two!--short notices about our latest tourism promotion of the Trail. First on their book blog: http://books.beloblog.com/archives/2007/10/texas_books_on_the_trail.html and then in their travel section yesterday: http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/fea/travel/texasneighbors/stories/DN-regnotes_1028tra.ART.State.Edition1.42852d9.html
We always expected that the Texas Mountain Trail BookCrossing Project would generate publicity outside the region and engage visitors in a fun way, hopefully encouraging them to extend their stay or come back to the region, but we're garnering an unexpected benefit--educating the locals about the various things to do and see out here. The frontline folks at the Chambers and RV parks and museums are also reading and enjoying the books. In our small towns, everyone is a potential ambassador to the tourists, so it pleases me that the sheriff picked up Nevada Barr's Track of the Cat, a mystery novel set in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park, just an hour up the road. The woman at the KOA is regularly posting her own travel recommendations to the bookcrossing website about the books I leave for tourists at the Kampground. Folks are getting into it!
Here's another "article" published on the BookCrossing website about our program: http://bookcrossing.com/articles/2771/Read-Your-Way-Down-the-Texas-Mountain-Trail!
And the bookcrossing page on our website: http://www.texasmountaintrail.com/home/index.asp?page=823
We always expected that the Texas Mountain Trail BookCrossing Project would generate publicity outside the region and engage visitors in a fun way, hopefully encouraging them to extend their stay or come back to the region, but we're garnering an unexpected benefit--educating the locals about the various things to do and see out here. The frontline folks at the Chambers and RV parks and museums are also reading and enjoying the books. In our small towns, everyone is a potential ambassador to the tourists, so it pleases me that the sheriff picked up Nevada Barr's Track of the Cat, a mystery novel set in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park, just an hour up the road. The woman at the KOA is regularly posting her own travel recommendations to the bookcrossing website about the books I leave for tourists at the Kampground. Folks are getting into it!
Here's another "article" published on the BookCrossing website about our program: http://bookcrossing.com/articles/2771/Read-Your-Way-Down-the-Texas-Mountain-Trail!
And the bookcrossing page on our website: http://www.texasmountaintrail.com/home/index.asp?page=823
Monday, October 22, 2007
Bookends of the Summer
This morning was seriously cold. I bundled up for my run, pulling on items of clothing I hadn't worn since June's trip to Scotland. On went the headband to keep my ears warm, the red fleece cap, running pants, two layers of tops and a fleece jacket. Last week I'd been sweating hard in a sleeveless running top and shorts. And now it was 44 degrees with wind so fierce the flags were standing out straight. I didn't feel overdressed until I'd nearly completed my four circuits around the cemetery--2.8 miles. It was Edinburgh cold, that shocking cut-through-you chill we experienced on our trip at the beginning of the summer.
I pay attention to my internal dialogue, maybe because I spend so much time by myself. This morning, what I heard in my head as I started the run was an enthusiastic "fun!" reinforcing the fact that I've really become a runner. Maybe I'm still basking in another milestone set on Saturday, the longest distance accomplished without a companion--10 miles. Running this morning reminded me of cross-country skiing, working my body hard in less than wonderful weather, but experiencing the sheer joy of being out in IT.
This morning I remembered having an internal dialogue just before that trip to Scotland, the day I'd started packing those cold weather clothes, the day I was in El Paso to exchange dollars into pounds. Mere steps from the border, sweating and thinking I might buy one of those locally-made cantelope popscicles, I caught myself thinking in Spanish. That thought pleased me too, feeling I'd passed some milestone of assimilation.
Saturday, I got a call from a fitness camp friend who reminded me of an upcoming meteor shower. (Thanks Michael!) I stayed up hours beyond my bedtime and drove out to the pecan orchard and parked the car. The moon was very bright and I was far too tired, as it turns out, to be patient waiting for the shooting stars. But I did listen to the animals, coyotes howling, dogs barking, and sounds I did not recognize. The air was cool and clear, like one of those end-of-the summer nights in Iowa, a soft breeze coming through the open window. Some nights we would wake to the sounds of animals fighting, horrible, desperate sounds. It was clear that even in that in the most human-altered land (as agricultural land is) nature really doesn't belong to us, especially at night. In most respects we kid ourselves when we think we're in control.
It got chilly after awhile and I headed home. I'd had a big run that morning after all. So I turned on the ignition and the headlights and drove back to town, chasing jackrabbits as I made my way down the dark road.
I pay attention to my internal dialogue, maybe because I spend so much time by myself. This morning, what I heard in my head as I started the run was an enthusiastic "fun!" reinforcing the fact that I've really become a runner. Maybe I'm still basking in another milestone set on Saturday, the longest distance accomplished without a companion--10 miles. Running this morning reminded me of cross-country skiing, working my body hard in less than wonderful weather, but experiencing the sheer joy of being out in IT.
This morning I remembered having an internal dialogue just before that trip to Scotland, the day I'd started packing those cold weather clothes, the day I was in El Paso to exchange dollars into pounds. Mere steps from the border, sweating and thinking I might buy one of those locally-made cantelope popscicles, I caught myself thinking in Spanish. That thought pleased me too, feeling I'd passed some milestone of assimilation.
Saturday, I got a call from a fitness camp friend who reminded me of an upcoming meteor shower. (Thanks Michael!) I stayed up hours beyond my bedtime and drove out to the pecan orchard and parked the car. The moon was very bright and I was far too tired, as it turns out, to be patient waiting for the shooting stars. But I did listen to the animals, coyotes howling, dogs barking, and sounds I did not recognize. The air was cool and clear, like one of those end-of-the summer nights in Iowa, a soft breeze coming through the open window. Some nights we would wake to the sounds of animals fighting, horrible, desperate sounds. It was clear that even in that in the most human-altered land (as agricultural land is) nature really doesn't belong to us, especially at night. In most respects we kid ourselves when we think we're in control.
It got chilly after awhile and I headed home. I'd had a big run that morning after all. So I turned on the ignition and the headlights and drove back to town, chasing jackrabbits as I made my way down the dark road.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Stitching again
There's nothing as powerfully motivating as a deadline, and an upcoming show got me stitching this week. I'm happy to report with a bit of relief since it has been so long since I picked up a needle, that I'm having a blast working on this new piece. More about that later.....
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Old Texas 20--The Makings of a Travel Itinerary
I thought it was time to take you all to work. This was my Thursday morning, scouting out possibilities for a driving itinerary to put on our website. Eventually I'll weave this altogether in a culinary/mission church themed travel itinerary. There are other sites I'll probably add--a great steak restaurant on a ranch used by Hollywood, a couple more missions, some other good Mexican restaurants (with exquisite chicken mole!) and some pick-your-own or corn maze ag-tourism places on farms.
First stop, the Chile Store in Fort Hancock, the retail outlet for the only U.S.-based chipotle processor, still a family operation. Good dried chiles, spice mixes and smoked salt! And next to Angie's, a Mexican restaurant still using cone sugar in their pecan pies.
In addition to chile fields, there are pecan orchards, alfalfa fields, and here...cotton.
A stop in Fabens, a small town on old Texas 20. Here it becomes apparent I'm not really in the United States any longer, but I'm spending the morning driving through a place that is probably more Mexico than the U.S.
On to Socorro and the Mission Church there. Recently restored, the beams are from the original mission church near the current location. Those beams still have remnants of original paint from the late 1500s.
First stop, the Chile Store in Fort Hancock, the retail outlet for the only U.S.-based chipotle processor, still a family operation. Good dried chiles, spice mixes and smoked salt! And next to Angie's, a Mexican restaurant still using cone sugar in their pecan pies.
In addition to chile fields, there are pecan orchards, alfalfa fields, and here...cotton.
A stop in Fabens, a small town on old Texas 20. Here it becomes apparent I'm not really in the United States any longer, but I'm spending the morning driving through a place that is probably more Mexico than the U.S.
On to Socorro and the Mission Church there. Recently restored, the beams are from the original mission church near the current location. Those beams still have remnants of original paint from the late 1500s.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Adventure on my mind
I have six months to figure it out: how to celebrate my 5oth birthday. I'm looking for something special, perhaps momentous, maybe very adventurous. Any suggestions?
In the next six months, I WILL do something I'd planned to do on my 4oth, learn to ride a horse. I had been frightened as a child, and was never really a horsey girl. Ten years ago I asked my friend Sara, if she'd go with me for my first ride. Sara is calm and solid and definitely knows horses--the perfect steadying influence. She agreed, but I put it off and then eventually forgot about it.
So while I ponder my 5oth, I'll finally fulfill an old resolution. I really don't think I'll be afraid this time out. Good thing I feel at least 10 years younger than I did 10 years ago, when I was feeling quite old indeed. I'm not afraid of much these days.
In the next six months, I WILL do something I'd planned to do on my 4oth, learn to ride a horse. I had been frightened as a child, and was never really a horsey girl. Ten years ago I asked my friend Sara, if she'd go with me for my first ride. Sara is calm and solid and definitely knows horses--the perfect steadying influence. She agreed, but I put it off and then eventually forgot about it.
So while I ponder my 5oth, I'll finally fulfill an old resolution. I really don't think I'll be afraid this time out. Good thing I feel at least 10 years younger than I did 10 years ago, when I was feeling quite old indeed. I'm not afraid of much these days.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Sounds of the morning
On my trip home from Houston, I traveled through the Independence Trail Region, the Hill Country Region and the Pecos Trail Region before going home. I was following the route of old Texas 90, which went through communities with retaining the influence of their first settlers from Alsatia, through cotton fields, desolate flatlands, and spectacular canyons. Yesterday morning, I stopped at Langtry, Judge Roy Bean territory just across the river from Mexico. There I was reminded of one of the things I cherish about living out here--the sound of absolute silence. How rare it is; how utterly meditative. How impossible it is to experience most everywhere else.
Remembering that experience on my run at the Van Horn Cemetery this morning, I listened for the sounds of a small town starting a new day. There was the rustle of rabbits in the desert, children playing in the schoolyard, then the morning bell, then the marching band practicing for tomorrow's game. The horse neighing in his stall just outside the cemetery, dogs barking, the sound of my feet on the dirt paths, the "hello" from the woman walking behind me, the birds (mostly house finches this morning). Then the train burst through town, the county trucks of workers drove in, and they got their weedeaters out to groom the pathways. And thankfully, by the time they got started, my run was over and I headed home for breakfast.
Remembering that experience on my run at the Van Horn Cemetery this morning, I listened for the sounds of a small town starting a new day. There was the rustle of rabbits in the desert, children playing in the schoolyard, then the morning bell, then the marching band practicing for tomorrow's game. The horse neighing in his stall just outside the cemetery, dogs barking, the sound of my feet on the dirt paths, the "hello" from the woman walking behind me, the birds (mostly house finches this morning). Then the train burst through town, the county trucks of workers drove in, and they got their weedeaters out to groom the pathways. And thankfully, by the time they got started, my run was over and I headed home for breakfast.
ah, finally x 2
Back at home now. And it feels good to be in my own bed again.
Marfa Public Radio is back on the air, so the experience most of you take for granted--turning on the radio and actually listening to something besides dead air--is something I can experience again. I have been getting my public radio fix online through Iowa Public Radio, but it is good to now have a local station again. (The only other signal I get is from a Catholic station, which often broadcasts in Spanish. That's how far out we are.)
Marfa Public Radio is back on the air, so the experience most of you take for granted--turning on the radio and actually listening to something besides dead air--is something I can experience again. I have been getting my public radio fix online through Iowa Public Radio, but it is good to now have a local station again. (The only other signal I get is from a Catholic station, which often broadcasts in Spanish. That's how far out we are.)
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