Doyle & Cat, 1946

2016-03-27 12:03 PM

Studying the Great Courses on Creative Non-Fiction with the West Side Community Center Writer’s Club led to an assignment to write about a family photo. My rough draft composition follows.

Last summer I received a letter from an unfamiliar name stating that she was writing on behalf of Charles Boydston and asking if I would be interested in old family photos that were in his possession. If so, please call a phone number. I recognized the name Charles Boydston as an uncle that I believed was deceased. I called the number and discovered that I was talking to my cousin Brian. Brian is now in a care facility with acute arthritis. We talked for a while and I agreed to take the photos that he offered to send. Brian was named after his father and that explained the usage of his dad’s name even though I always knew him as Brian.

When the package arrived, there were two copies of the same picture. A picture that I was familiar with as I have this photo in my family album that my mother prepared for me long ago. I did not really think about them very much. I showed them to my mother, she kept one, I kept one and tossed it into the tote bag that I had used to carry some Sam’s purchases to her. Sometime later, upon unpacking Sprouts’ purchases, I discovered the photo in the bottom of the bag. At this time I noticed many horizontal scratches on it and discovered that I could scratch it by dragging a fingernail across the surface. Plus it was sharper in detail, not yellowed like my copy. I concluded it was an original and not produced by the negative emulsion photograph development process. Rather, it was closer to a tin type. But not a true tin type as it was not printed on a piece of metal. It showed sharper detail, too bad I didn’t realize this before I carelessly dropped it into the bottom of a tote bag.

This is not the real subject of the story. The family depicted shows my Father and Mother, myself – aged about one – and my sister and who was 2 ½ years older than I. I have no recollection of the event. My sister remembered everything. She was jealous of me when I came along. After that time, she was the absolute center of my Mother and Father’s attention. So while getting my version of the photo out of my family album, I noticed another photograph that I decided to write about. Titled Doyle & Cat 1946, it’s a small 2 x 3 inched black and white Polaroid looking thing that I long noticed but never really attempted to analyze. I was four years old at this time, barefoot, shirtless, wearing tot’s overalls, curly hair atop my head, squinting into the sun, holding a young cat by its tail. I wondered, “How did this pose come about?”

Whose idea was it that I pose with the cat by its tail? Was it my Father’s? Did he say “Hey, hey, hey, here, Sonny Boy, grab that cat by its tail so we can have some laughs?” He laughed in a braying sort of way, “Hee, hee, hee”, sounding like a muted jackass, sucking his breath in rapidly. Or, was it my idea, did I say, “Wait, let me grab this cat by its tail first.” Probably not, according to my sister, I could barely speak when I started first grade. Perhaps I just walked or dragged the cat around by his tail all the time. Was the cat my blanket, like Linus’s blanket?  I asked my Mother about it during a phone call recently. She said, “It was just an accident, just an accident.” This hardly clarifies anything or explains nothing, typical of my Mother’s explanations, nothing. Did the cat just fall out of the sky into hand at the same time the shutter snapped? Was I cradling the cat loving with both hands and it slipped squirmed out of my arms finally slipping free as its tail slipped through my hand at the instant the camera snapped the shot? Was my sister in the background, screaming, “You had better let go of that cat or I’ll beat the snot out of you?”

My mother volunteered, “Your sister told me that the best thing I ever did was to divorce your Dad.” I turned the question around and asked, “Does that mean that the worst thing you ever did was to marry my Dad?” She said, “There wasn’t a lot to choose from in those times and places,” further saying that she always did the best she could. This is a common justification. Doesn’t everyone do the best they can? Do you know anyone that doesn’t do the best they can? Is just another meaningless rationalization that I accepted for years without question. Happy Easter, Mom.  02:26 PM

2016-03-29 07:32 PM

The revision process starts by pasting the rough draft on my Manzano Jack blog and incorporating the suggestion made by Grammerly.

2016-03-29 08:54 PM

First Revision:

The Great Courses on Creative Non-Fiction homework assignment for session number two was to write about a family photo. This class is located at the West Side Community Center and conducted by The Writer's Club. 

Last summer I received a letter from an unfamiliar name. The writer was writing on behalf of Charles Boydston. Charles wanted to know if I was interested in old family photos that were in his possession. If so, please call his phone number. I recognized the name Charles Boydston as an uncle that I believed was deceased. I called the number and discovered that I was talking to my cousin Brian. Brian is now in a care facility with acute arthritis. We talked for a while and I agreed to take the photos that he offered to send. Brian was named after his father and that explained the usage of his dad’s name even though I always knew him as Brian.

When the envelope arrived, there were two copies of the same picture. The picture was one that I was familiar with as I have a copy of this photo in a photo album that my mother gave to me long ago. So I did not at them closely. I later showed them to my mother. She kept one. I kept the other one in the mailing envelope and tossed it back into the tote bag that I had used to carry some Sam’s purchases to her. A few weeks later while unpacking Sprouts’ grocery purchases from the tote bag, I noticed the envelope at the bottom of the bag and rediscovered the photo. At this time, I noticed many horizontal scratches and discovered that I could scratch it by dragging a fingernail across the surface. Plus it was sharper in detail, not yellowed like my copy. I concluded it was an original and not produced by the negative emulsion photograph development process. Rather, it was closer to a tintype. But not a true tintype as it was not printed on a piece of metal. It showed sharper detail, too bad I hadn't realized this before I carelessly dropped the mailing envelope back into the bottom of the tote bag.

The family depicted shows my Father and Mother, myself – aged about one – and my sister who is 2 3/4 years older than me. I have no recollection of my early life. My sister remembers everything. She was jealous of me when I came along. Until I was born, she was the absolute center of my Mother and Father’s attention. 

While comparing this version of the photo to the copy in my photo album, I noticed another photograph that I also decided to write about. Titled 'Doyle & Cat 1946', it’s a small 2 x 3 inch black and white faded print that I've always been aware of but never attempted to analyze. I was four years old at that time, barefoot, shirtless, wearing tot’s overalls, curly hair atop my head, squinting into the sun, and holding a young cat by its tail. Putting on my Creative Non-Fiction investigative hat, I wondered, “How did this pose come about?”

Whose idea was it that I pose holding the cat by its tail? Was it my Father’s? Did he say “Hee, hee, hee, here, Sonny Boy, grab that cat by its tail so we can have some laughs?” He laughed in a braying sort of way, “Hee, hee, hee”, sounding like a muted jackass, sucking his breath in rapidly. Or, was it my idea, did I say, “Wait, let me grab this cat by its tail first.” Probably not, according to my sister, I could barely speak when I started first grade. Perhaps I just walked or dragged the cat around by his tail all the time. Was the cat my blanket, like Linus’s blanket?  

I asked my Mother about it during a phone call recently. She said, “It was just an accident, just an accident.” This doesn't explain anything, typical of my Mother’s nonsensical explanations. Am I supposed to believe that the cat accidently fell off the roof into my hand at the same time the shutter snapped? Was I cradling the cat lovingly in my arms and it squirmed out of my grasp with its tail finally slipping through my hand at the instant the photo was taken?

In the spirit of considering what other people may have been present and doing at the time the photo was taken, I wonder if my sister was in the background, screaming, “You had better let go of that cat's tail or I’ll beat the snot out of you?”  Did I defiantly grin and hold on tighter? And then begin running for my life as soon as the photo was taken?

Unrelated to the photo, my Mother then volunteered, “Your sister told me that the best thing I ever did was to divorce your Dad.” I turned the question around and asked, “Does that mean that the worst thing you ever did was to marry my Dad?” She said, “There wasn’t a lot to choose from in those times and places,” further saying that she always did the best she could. This is one of her common justifications. I question this rationalization these days by asking, silently of course;  "Best for who?" and "Doesn’t everyone do the best they can? Do you know anyone that doesn’t do the best they can?" I now view the 'She always did the best she could' phrase as a meaningless explanation that I accepted without question for years.

Happy Easter, Mom.

I will turn your questions back to you, Jack, to see what you might discover in the doing.

2016-03-18 07:06 PM

Reply from Joan Dempsey regard a comment on Show, Don’t Tell Lesson.

I will turn your questions back to you, Jack, to see what you might discover in the doing. You asked: "How does one 'show' the reader about sounds, tastes, smells, touches as well as looks? Again, how does one 'tell' the reader about sounds, tastes, smells, touches as well as looks?"

Try to write something that will help you to answer those questions. Write a scene in which all five senses are attended to (or at least 3 of them). See how you can show or tell for each of these.

Another way to do this is to scan novels or stories for the senses, and see how the writer used those senses - did he or she show them, or tell them, or both?

Study this concept as much as you can - see what other writers do, and employ their strategies in your journals. Let me know how you make out.

From Natalie Goldberg’s Old Friend from Far Away

Here’s a tongue in cheek example from Natalie Goldberg regarding using all the senses when one writes:

“I liked her. She smelled likes roses. She tasted like alfalfa. She sounded like a saxophone and she felt like a horse’s mane and looked like the devil.”

This example uses the ‘tell’ method for each of the senses by using similes. Therefore, a writer may use similes to tell the reader about all the senses. NG does not discuss “showing” at this point in her book.

From Claire Kehrwald Cook’s Line by Line

The following advice, beginning on page 14, seems relevant to implementing ‘showing’ instead of ‘telling.’

“But when you want the reader to envision what you’re writing about, as you usually do if you find yourself adding adjectives and adverbs, make sure to choose the most specific nouns and verbs you can.  Surrender to modifiers only as a last resort.”

The author uses ‘envision’ instead of ‘show’ for the same concept. I believe ‘envision’ is a richer description of the possibilities for engaging the reader’s imagination whereas ‘show’ only requires that the reader sits back and stare as if watching TV or a movie. IMHO.

From Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls

The following sentences and fragments are from Chapter 1:

“The stream showed clear and smooth-looking…”

This is an explicit use of the verb ‘show’ to show the reader the setting. This is almost funny in its simplicity, but indeed ‘showed’ shows better than ‘was’ would have. If ‘was’ was used, this would have been a ‘telling’ sentence.

“…and ate the clean, cool green leaves and the crisp, peppery tasting stalks.”

The author is conveying taste and sight information, but is it through showing or telling? I believe he is telling how the leaves look and feel and how the stalks feel and taste, not showing.

“… and drank from the stream. The water was achingly cold.

Initially, I thought this was about a taste sensation, but cold is not one of the five basic tastes. Rather it is the feeling sense being described. It is a telling description that uses an adverb. (I point this out because I’m currently engulfed with the contagion adverb-phobia, ha!)

“He could see a trail through the grass where the horses had been led …”

The author is writing as an omniscient narrator. As the author tells the reader what this character is seeing, the author is also showing the setting to the reader. Again, the author is showing the setting by telling the thoughts of a character.

“Man, I’m hungry, he thought.”

The author writes about a character’s feelings by telling the character’s thoughts. Is this showing or telling? Simple telling would be: “He was hungry.”  The reader is able to empathize more by knowing the characters thoughts, but I still can’t see his hunger, so I conclude it’s not showing. On the other hand, I definitely get that he is hungry so perhaps the author’s intent is to show that the character is hungry, not describe his hunger. (I spent a lot of time trying to understand this simple sentence.)

From Edward Abbey’s The Fool’s Progress: An Honest Novel

The following sentences and fragments are from Chapter 1:

“…except for the usual background noise, from the city, of a diesel freight train clattering down the rails, of the endless caravan of forty-ton Peterbilts, Kenworths, Macks, Whites, grinding along the Interstate, of air-force jets screeching through the air …

The author tells about sounds, using the gerunds of clattering, grinding, and screeching as types of noise.

“Pull the trigger – BLAM! – and there’s the screech of lead slug, hollow-pointed and dilate, smashing through a clutch of copper coils.”

The author uses BLAM! to describe a sound.  Blam is an interjection, not a verb.  It does not tell about the sound, rather it mimics the sound. That makes it similar to a ‘showing’ since it allows the reader to envision what the hearing of that sound is like. What are other interjections? I now want to find other interjections.

“The little fan scratches to a final stop.”

The authors use scratches to tell the reader that a harsh sound accompanies the fan stopping.

From Hunter S. Thompson’s Generation of Swine.

“My neighbors are calfing tonight. The cowboys are working overtime and the barns are lit up with flood lamps and portable heaters. A freak snowstorm in the Rockies has made the cows nervous and they are all giving birth at the same time.

When I drove down to the tavern around midnight, I noticed a strange glow on the horizon – which is never a good thing to see in the country – but when I came around the bend where the road crosses over the creek, I saw that it was only Wayne’s barn, lit up like a football stadium and surrounded by pickup trucks. There were sounds of cows bellowing and men with blood up to their elbows running back and forth in the shadows.”

In the first paragraph, the author tells the reader that it is a calfing setting.  In the second paragraph, the author describes his actions and what he is seeing thereby allowing the reader to vicariously ride along and envision the scene as the author sees it. He uses a simile; “lit up like a football stadium.” to show a look. He uses the gerund ‘bellowing’ to convey the sound of the cows in “There were sounds of cows bellowing … .” If this gerund were left out, this clause would be “There were sounds of cows  …” which is not as strong. Including ‘bellowing’ allows the reader to hear along with the author. “…men with blood up to their elbows running back and forth in the shadows” allows the reader to look along with the author. Isn’t it through telling that the author shows the action?

I am beginning to question is if there is a clear cut division between telling and showing.  Perhaps the distinction is not binary, rather a continuum exists between tell and show techniques.

Another thought, the setting for the action of the last sentence is established by everything that preceded it. It’s like some rock n’ roll songs that kick it up the volume much louder some appreciable time into the song. First a long setup –BAM! – action.

From Anais Nin’s Seduction of the Minotaur

“Other people were dancing around them, so obedient to the rhythms that they seemed like algae in the water, welded to each other, and swaying, the colored skirts billowing, the white suits like frames to support the flower arrangements made by the women’s dresses, their hair, their jewels, their lacquered nails.  The wind sought to carry them away from the orchestra, but they remained in its encirclement of sound like Japanese kites moved by strings from the instruments.”

This single paragraph tells of other people dancing. I don’t see any showing. There are similes; “…like algae in the …”, “…white suits like frames to support …” and “… like Japanese kites … .” The look, touch, and sound senses of the reader are invoked in a dramatic passive manner.

“There were tears in Lillian’s eyes, for having made friends immediately not with a new, a beautiful, a drugging place, but with a man intent on penetrating the mysteries of the human labyrinth from which she was a fugitive.”

Lillian’s emotional response is revealed by the telling of “There were tears in … .”  I’m not sure whether they are tears of joy or sadness. Is she glad to meet a kindred spirit who may help her or sad that her inner protection schemes may be assaulted and possibly violated? Perhaps that’s the mystery of the novel for the reader to unravel.

What sense is an emotion?  What’s the distinction between an emotion and a feeling?  Emotions are outside the framework of the five basic senses.  Some researchers believe there are 21 senses.

http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2010/07/humans-have-a-lot-more-than-five-senses.

How many emotions are there?  Attempting to find or make up examples of telling and showing about the various emotions would be an endless endeavor.  Attempting to address never ending questions about the human condition is part of the appeal of Anais Nin even though she appears to write exclusively as a telling author.

This is my brief assessment only – I am by no means an expert on Anais Nin.

From Manzano Jack’s Bosque del Apache NWR, New Mexico

“I encountered a Blue Heron twice close enough to hear squawks of unpleasant grumbling as he flew away from my approaches. Interesting as well was the way he extended his head high away from his shoulders straightening his neck to get a better view of my approach. He lowered his head folding his neck into a curve as he settled down and waited. I recorded audio of my approach; footsteps preceded his angry squawking flight to safety, my quick laugh followed.”

This piece is from my journals with no revisions post Revise with Confidence.

I attempted to let the reader hear the sounds of the Blue Heron by using the gerunds ‘unpleasant grumbling’ and ‘angry squawking.’  I recall wanting to characterize these sounds as I wrote. I also revealed the look of the Blue Heron in action by telling how he was straightening and folding his neck.

The following update, with revisions post Revise with Confidence inserts myself more fully in the scene and tells the reader what I am seeing and hearing thus showing the reader what I am seeing and letting the reader hear what I am hearing. (At times, this seems like a game of semantics I'm playing as I try to explain how my telling is the reader’s seeing.)

“I saw a Blue Heron up close and heard grumbling squawks as the big blue bird flew away from my approaches two times. After a short first flight, he landed farther along the access road that doubled as the hiking trail and paralleled the irrigation canal that he was hunting in when I first approached. He strode to the center of the access road and then pissed a pencil-wide white stream as if marking his territory. I watched curiously as he extended his head high away from his shoulders by straightening his neck to get a better view of my second approach. He then lowered his head by folding his neck into a curve as he settled his body farther down and waited. Continuing my approach with footsteps crunching on the graveled access road, I heard and saw the big blue bird’s final angry squawking flight to safety across a field and out of sight. Spontaneously, I laughed quickly.”

Is it better? Much better? A little better?  I spent a lot of time making these revisions. Am I on a gerund binge? I added a lot of situation detail not in the initial journal transcription and deleted writing about the audio recording as it seemed irrelevant to the story. 


Joan Dempsey of Revise with Confidence provided two comments that I incorporated to produce the following version.

In place of "Continuing my approach ..." how about this: As my footsteps crunched on the gravel access road, the big blue bird squawked angrily and flew to safety across a field and out of sight."

I'd also suggest that spontaneous laughter is always quick, and so you could do without the adverb.

“I saw a Blue Heron up close and heard grumbling squawks as the big blue bird flew away from my approaches two times. After a short first flight, he landed farther along the access road that doubled as the hiking trail and paralleled the irrigation canal that he was hunting in when I first approached. He strode to the center of the access road and then pissed a pencil-wide white stream as if marking his territory. I watched curiously as he extended his head high away from his shoulders by straightening his neck to get a better view of my second approach. He then lowered his head by folding his neck into a curve as he settled his body farther down and waited. As my footsteps crunched on the gravel access road, the big blue bird squawked angrily and flew to safety across a field and out of sight. Spontaneously, I laughed.”


After much arguing with myself about parsing distinctions regarding show and tell, I have two insights to share.

1)     The show and tell framework is ingrained in our collective consciousness by the elementary school practice of children bringing objects into the classroom to participate in “Show and Tell” sessions.  Do elementary schools still do this? While I believe this practice existed at some point in time, I don’t recall doing it myself.

2)     I rediscovered a bit of writer’s advice that I’ve encountered before. It’s: “Tell your story through the eyes of your character(s).”

Bosque del Apache NWR, New Mexico

Bosque del Apache NWR, New Mexico

Manzano Jack

January 11-13, 2016

2016–01–11 02:39 PM

"I can't go see the birds." Agnes is calling at 8:38 a.m. "My shingles attack feels like firecrackers exploding inside and driving fish hooks through my skin. I can't stand the pain. I just can't go." She is canceling out of our trip to Bosque del Apache to see the wintering Greater Sandhill Cranes. I can either go alone or not go. The highway distance is four hundred and seventy-four miles, driving time is 7 hours and 14 minutes according to the Windows Maps App. Actual time will be closer to eight hours including stops.  I’ll need to leave early, by 6:00 a.m., in order to arrive before dark. I start thinking about revisiting the cafe that boasts the “World’s Best Chili Cheeseburger,” a place I discovered when I cruised through the area last summer.

2016–01–12 09:21 AM

It’s a short crisp walk into the Trinidad’s McDonalds past a hoodie figure shivering and smoking near the entrance. The Trinidad McDonald’s is located below Interstate 25, which passes above the western edge of downtown. This McDonald’s is a senior hangout for locals who are dressed in farm brand ball caps, jackets of various insulations including faux sheepskin jean jackets. Beards adorn outdoor complexions. The prices are right; a dollar for a crunchy sausage biscuit, another dollar for senior coffee – too hot to drink initially, and seven cents for the taxman.

I’m heading to Casa Blanca B&B – the “White House” located in San Antonio, New Mexico. They only take cash according to Agnes. I repeatedly wonder if they’ll discount taxes since they probably conveniently neglect to claim cash as income. This is Agnes’s arrangement and now she isn’t going. I don’t believe it’s located inside the NWR and I don’t believe they provide tours as Agnes said. I need to press on and arrive soon enough to go to the NWR proper and figure out the logistics.

2016 – 01 – 12 08:32 PM

Situated in the Heron Room at the Casa Blanca B&B located in San Antonio, New Mexico.

The cloudless New Mexican sky hung above the dry highway all day. Week old snow crouched along the roadside. I sped along at 75 miles per hour determined to make the Bosque del Apache visitor center before closing. Once there, I bought an auto tour CD for $2.75. The B&B had a supply for free. Perhaps Agnes misunderstood. While this is the closest B&B to the NWR, it is eight miles north on Highway 1. Phoebe offered to discount the tax if I paid cash. I didn’t have to ask. I didn't see huge flocks of Greater Sandhill Cranes as I expected. While driving through the NWR for the first time, I saw a few hunkered down in the midst of a flooded field. The greatest crane concentration was alongside Highway 1.

A tall red-haired backpacker was hitchhiking in the growing evening darkness and cold along Highway 1 near the crane viewing spot. I passed this figure three times, was not sure if it was male or female. As I approached the third time, the hitchhiker, recognizing my auto, turned back to the road and kept on walking. It was cold to be hitching. What were the hitchhiker’s options? Keep walking all night? Camping in the NWR, a forbidden zone? Expecting mercy on a New Mexico back road? The adventure continues to unfold endlessly for daring ones, comfortable or not. Could be sitting on a couch, was the hitchhiker a millennial?

The drive to Santa Fe from Colorado Springs was right at seven hours. Bosque del Apache is about 100 miles south of ABQ, not 60 that I estimated.

The Casablanca is owned and managed by Phoebe, a white retired New Mexico school teacher. The place is kind of cold. The ceiling has patched over ridges, concrete floors, and electric baseboard heating. My hands were cold when I came in the B&B after eating a full bowl of beans topped with chilies and an Owl Cafe Green Chili Cheese Burger, which is a cheeseburger with finely chopped soft green chilies atop the patty. It is nothing at all like a Pueblo Green Chili Slopper, which is an open face hamburger smothered with pork green chili stew. I drank a Budweiser bottle of beer with my dinner. The beer cost $2.95, the total bill was $15.21.

2016–01–13 08:35 PM

The story of today included 13,700+ steps as measured by UP3. Sketched atop the Marsh Trail and Canyon Trail and finished the afternoon hike just as the sun was going down. The Sandhill cranes leave and return in small groups. There are not large waves of birds leaving and returning. I used my phone’s voice recorder to capture some of the bird calls as they bunched on the icy water at the edge of the South Cornfields. I encountered a Blue Heron twice close enough to hear squawks of unpleasant grumbling as he flew away from my approaches. Interesting as well was the way he extended his head high away from his shoulders straightening his neck to get a better view of my approach. He lowered his head folding his neck into a curve as he settled down and waited. I recorded audio of my approach; footsteps preceded his angry squawking flight to safety, my quick laugh followed. 08:47 PM

2016–01–18 03:23 PM

Writing with the Shaefer calligraphy pen set, medium nib, green ink.

 First entry in five days. My writing passion is ebbing lower. No more 10-minute exercises, no more double-page entries. I have a Moleskin diary that I attempt to use to plan my day and tell the story of my day. The blank pages attest to my flagging efforts. The end of this journal is near. I have a Rhodia notebook that I plan to use next. My adventure to Bosque del Apache is thus far untold. Now writing with the Shaeffer calligraphy pen in fine nib with Shaeffer blue ink cartridge.

Departing early at 6:00 AM on Tuesday, January 12th. This trip was Agnes’s idea. She located the Casa Blanca B&B located in San Antonio, NM and made reservations. Then her shingles attack forced her last moment cancellation. I went alone saving her $220 dollars in B&B fees that I paid entirely instead of sharing the expenses as originally planned. Plus I needed to drive my Explorer. I arranged a last moment oil change at Aspen Auto that cost $181 for a new battery. I used an oil change coupon and so there was no additional charge. A few false starts delayed the six a.m. departure. Did I turn off the coffee pot? (Yes, it was off.) The interior entry way chandelier was on I noticed as I backed out of the driveway for the second time. I returned a third time after withdrawing $200 cash from ENT to check on the thermostat setting. No, it was not on 61° hold. I took this opportunity to top off my coffee cup as well. Finally away for good, still early enough to drive in the dark south on I-25. I made it to the Colorado City rest area before taking a 15-minute nap as the arriving daylight carried a blanket of tiredness. Next stop was the Trinidad McDonald’s located below I-25 overhead the western downtown area. There was the usual gathering of senior citizens. They were dressed in faux fur jean jackets, bearded, hoodies for the ladies; it was too cold to write in a booth. I munched the sausage biscuit and drink the senior coffee as I drove farther south. I wanted to make Bosque del Apache before the visitor center closed. The ETA on my Garmin Nuvi navigator read 3:30 PM. I continued driving at the 75 mph speed limit. A stop at the Maxwell NWR revealed a frozen lake with white surface and no migratory fowl visible. No tracks on the lake surface. Where were the wintering birds?

2016 – 01 – 18 10:55 AM

Writing with the Shaeffer calligraphy pen that has bold nib, using a red ink cartridge. Continuamos Bosque del Apache adventure.

 I made it all the way past Santa Fe to the Indian casino wide spot in the road at San Felipe where I bought gas and attempted use the restroom but was blocked by cleaning personnel. Continued driving, surprisingly the urge to urinate subsided. I stopped at the Walking Hills rest area south of Albuquerque. This unique rest area features raised enclosed boxes for the picnic tables. Each black box featured a viewing window for observing the apparently motionless walking sand dunes. I drove on, ETA now approaching 3:45 PM, I began to consider the possibility of the visitor center closing at 4:00 PM.  This turned out to be true.

Exiting at San Antonio, and turning right at the blinking traffic light, eight miles remained to Bosque del Apache. Sure enough, the visitor center closed at 4:00 PM. I picked up a free visitors guide and quickly surveyed the gift shop’s trinkets and clothing. After purchasing an audio CD tour guide for $2.75, I proceeded to drive the auto tour for the first time. The admission fee was $5.00. I didn’t have $2.50 in change and didn’t take the extra time to write a check for the reduced amount for which I was eligible because of my Golden Passport card. After the first drive-through, during which I saw two Sandhill Cranes in a flooded area, I headed to the B&B. Signs posted on Highway 1 directed the way down narrow graveled roads to the white picket fence that enclosed the grounds of Casa Blanca. The entry door was very low, typical of an old house expanded to its modern role. Propane heated air greeted my entry. Phoebe and her partner Kevin were present. "Hi, I'm Agnes," I said and then quickly explained why I was alone. Phoebe talked about the NWR and had several copies of the audio tour CD available for loan. She also explained the dining possibilities in San Antonio. More than one place offered green chili cheeseburgers. I was set on the Owl Bar and Café because of my previous visit. Phoebe said I needed to go see the cranes before eating as the sunset was near.  I drove to the NWR once more along Highway 1 and noticed a flooded field adjacent to the highway. A sign indicating viewing opportunities existed the next 1.25 miles. I noticed a backpacking hitchhiker walking alongside the roadway. I passed this figure three times. I was unable to tell if the hitchhiker was male or female, a large bundle of auburn hair encased the hitchhiker’s head. It was cold, 20°, getting dark soon, I wondered at the hitcher’s prospects. Keep walking in the dark or pitch a prohibited camp inside the NWR? Completing the auto tour near the time of last light, I drove Highway 1 north and noticed many cranes in the water at the roadside viewing spot.

In the early evening darkness, I went to the Owl Bar and Café where I ordered a Bud bottle of beer, the house specialty green chili cheeseburger and a bowl of beans with green chilies. The beans at this place are small Pinto beans cooked to perfection. Not overly mushy and falling apart, they are well formed individual kernels in the light broth, hot with heat and spicy hot with finely chopped green chilies atop. The beans are served with a tray of Saltine crackers that are packed two to a cellophane packet. The crackers serve as dipping chips and help cool the initial bites. A bowl of Owl beans could suffice for a meal. The chili cheeseburger patty is flattened while grilling and extends beyond the bun. They grind their own hamburger.  A dollop of finely chopped lettuce and mayonnaise sit atop the melted yellow cheese and atop that are the chopped roasted green chilies. The bun is steamed. No flatware is served and I cannot cut the burger into manageable bites. I resort to nibbling on the patty's edges and continually wipe my gooey fingers while alternating with bites of hot beans.

The next morning I returned to watch the birds exit their overnight water roost. The bird blind at the NWR was a bust; it viewed a large water area with a few birds. I stopped at the bird watching spot in now daylight and watched until only two birds remained. The one in front looks backward as if encouraging the smaller bird to fly. I became impatient and drove on before they departed.

The breakfast at the B&B was standard American grease – artificial bacon, scrambled eggs, fried frozen hash browns, juices, and muffins. Lois and Kevin, friends of Phoebe and Kevin from Santa Fe were present. Lori did most of the talking for the two. I paid Phoebe in cash, $220, she offered to discount the taxes. Lois paid with a check including the taxes. I rate this BBQ as 2.5 out of five. The bath was cold, the outside door screen dragged on the steps, and electric baseboard provided supplemental heat. I brought my own electric blanket and was comfortable.

I returned to the NWR, bought T-shirts for Agnes and me in slightly different pastel colors in a design featuring an assortment of birds and the name ‘Bosque del Apache.’ I explored the botanic desert garden on the grounds, which featured many interesting species of cacti. The purple prickly pear I noticed for the first time. I hiked the Marsh Overlook Trail, got lost, backtracked and eventually made it to the overlook where I sketched the view. A poignant phrase from the self-guided tour brochure summarized the chain of life ranging from mosquitoes that Phoebe and Kevin complained about to the humans located in the refuge buildings. I mentally modified this to government humans residing atop the food chain. The refuge personnel manages the NWR by constantly directing water flows and managing crop growth to provide sustenance for wildlife that can no longer take care of itself, just like government dependent people. In fact, the NWR grows corn for the birds to eat, just like the Department of Agriculture subsidizes corn farmers for the corn that people eat in all of its many forms.

The desert botanic garden includes a “Friends House” in its midst. There were also several shaded picnic tables in the cactus area. I hiked the Canyon Trail Loop and finished near sunset. I sketched at the overlook.

Afterward, I returned to the Owl Café where I choose a seven-ounce sirloin steak dinner that included small portions of cottage cheese, salad, beans, Texas toast – old school style dining. Phoebe explained dining and brewpub opportunities in Socorro that include a Best Western motel. Perhaps Socorro would be a better spot for a mid-New Mexico adventure. The bird watching at the Bernardo exit was much greater than at Bosque del Apache as I discovered accidentally upon leaving early the next morning as I skipped the B&B breakfast in favor of stopping at Jimmy’s Café in ABQ. I discovered Jimmy’s on previous trips through ABQ and really like the place.  In addition to being a great breakfast restaurant, it’s a “Jimmy” Museum. Painting and posters of famous Jimmy persona adorn the walls. At Jimmy’s, I ordered one-half order of breakfast enchiladas and one huge $3.19 pancake that covered the entire plate. I got free coffee and syrup to go along with half of the pancake. I left a five dollar tip for Kate, who enthusiastically lived up to the words on her T-shirt, “Best Wait Staff in ABQ.” 12:34 PM.