Empanadas from the Barrio

The line on Friday morning was nearly out the door. Bowie Bakery in Segundo Barrio sits on a sunlit corner, its white adobe gleaming. The neighborhood is full of tiny adobe apartments and homes, creamscicle-colored, pink, purple, and white all blazing in sun. This is an old, old neighborhood, and in decades past, a place of disease, violence and poverty. But today it is lovely, and I want to roam. It doesn't feel like the U.S. Two and a half blocks down the road is the narrow Rio Grande and then Mexico. In the opposite direction, the rest of El Paso and the Franklin Mountains.

But my time is short as I have an appointment later, and I need to get in line. Spanish is spoken here, but the clerk makes me and my English feel welcome. Amazed by the vast selection of Mexican pastries, I decide to ask for what I know: empanadas.

"What kind do you have?"

"Cream, yam, apple, pineapple."

I'm here to sample, so I say, "one of each," and to avoid the appearance of gluttony, "to go."

The bill is $3.10.

Back in my car, I survey the half moons of pastry...some simple and unadorned with rough dough exteriors. Others are shiny with egg glaze and patterned by the slashes of a knife before baking. I rip open the first. Cream. This is what I like about Mexican pastries: even with a pastry cream filling, they're not too sweet. I lick the little drip oozing from the center and take a bite, then two. I nod. Good.

Then onto the yam. Also good. Then the pretty shiny empanadas--obviously the apple and pineapple. Each get a bite. Satisfied that this is a place I can recommend to travelers, I regretfully roll up the bag, sorry I won't finish off the jumble of half-eaten pastries inside. Next time, I'll try something new, and eat the whole thing.

A late spring

Sundays are my long run days in the cemetery, but today I was distracted by some wonderful things. Taking it as a sign that I should just take in their glory, I picked up my camera after mile 3 instead of taking in the ten I normally run on Sundays.

I was startled in mile two by a pair of mating horny toads. They scattered and I forged on, reveling in the fact that I'd not only seen the Texas state reptile, but a threatened species...mating.

I continued my run, and then happened by something I hadn't seen nor smelled in four years...flowering lilacs. Maybe our nearly daily rain, however light, kicked the flowering mechanism of this most decidedly not a desert plant into full gear. But there they were, full purple blossoms. I stood there for several minutes, just taking in the scent, remembering this was the favorite of my childhood. It reminded me of dabbing lilac toilet water on my wrists, and feeling very feminine as a tiny girl.

And then I wandered to the spot where I'd seen the horny toads and they were still there, back at it. I photographed them for a very long time, knowing I'd seen not one, but two rare sights this morning. One was a sight from my past, the other from my present.

Van Horn's Junior Rodeo

Click here to see a full slideshow of images.

The Junior Rodeo is one of my favorite annual events in Van Horn.

The kids are tough, fast and fearless, and marshal power well beyond the size of their small frames. They're serious; this is more about work than play. Yet layered underneath the toughness, there's a tender earnestness that is utterly charming.

The intense heat of the afternoon wore out, and the temperature was comfortable by the time the calf roping began. It was the best of the three annual Junior Rodeo's I've attended in Van Horn, lovely sky, and beautiful evening light.

This was a 4H rodeo, and I was struck by the difference between these kids and the ones in Iowa showing animals at the county fair. In Iowa, the kids are open and earnest, their emotions easily read on their faces. The rodeo kids--boys and girls--were more strong than tough. They carried a veneer of determination and power about them, though deep within they were as earnest as the Iowans. Only one kid was able to step aside from his work and engage me with a smile. Another knew I was there shooting, and while he didn't acknowledge me, he was definitely performing for the camera with his lasso.

The girls were feminine and tough, the older ones wearing perfect makeup far more tastefully applied than I've seen, say....in figure skaters. The littlest girls wore a lot of pink, as did their horses. I loved these girls; they were both strong and feminine.

The littlest boy in the photos still had diapers on underneath his jeans. He'll be competing in a few years, I'm sure of it.