notemapez

“You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.”
― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Word!

Word!

Art Supplies are restocked, class schedules set, time to get back to work. My students arrive tomorrow!

Exploring the maze of falaj systems that feed the village of Al-Hosn.

Feels good to be back home in Oman, back in the land of noisy souks, coffee shops, and the sale of live chickens. The prepackaged sterility of life in the U. S. of A. dulls the mind and senses. Such is the price of prosperity. I visited the Muttrah fish souk this morning. Seeing people again, people of all ages, working, chatting, drinking tea, haggling over prices, a mass of humanity moving about, snapped me back into reality. I saw so many old men and women on the streets. Dudes with long white beards and canes, mountainous, perfumed women wrapped in layers of fabric. This is something you just don’t see in Merika (old people). I guess we prefer to keep them out of sight, out of mind. Hmm? Then again, that’s not entirely true. I suspect many might be working at Mc Donald’s, but then, I didn’t go into Mc Donald’s. Like I said, it feels good to be home.

I was at our neighborhood hardware shop this morning and found what is arguably the best rake I have ever seen. Hard wood handle with a spring loaded tension bar across a fret with 22 steel teeth. The symmetry is sublime. #gooddesign

I’m reposting this from last June because…Well, because nobody understands me. #erotica

I was at our neighborhood hardware shop this morning and found what is arguably the best rake I have ever seen. Hard wood handle with a spring loaded tension bar across a fret with 22 steel teeth. The symmetry is sublime. #gooddesign

I’m reposting this from last June because…Well, because nobody understands me. #erotica

Final Brazos Post
This house continues to hold me in a sleepy grip. Of course, it’s the altitude, the chilly mornings, the late rising sun which doesn’t seem to top the ponderosas until ten. Mexico kicked my ass for sure, so there’s a bit of recovery from that as well, but regardless, this place is for dreaming. Inevitably, I pry myself from the warmth, head downstairs, put on the kettle and grind some beans. My goal each day is to have at least one broject completed before the monsoonal rains seep over the cliffs and fill the valley. After chores, there’s time for the river, time to pull beaver wood out of the swimming hole, and then a short drive to Three Ravens to reconnect with the world.

The ritual of closing up the summer house is always bitter sweet. It usually entails, some cleaning, a little painting, and of course, cleaning up the winter kill of trees. There are a few aspens that have died. Peckerwood went down on its own this past winter. Change climate has been slowing taking these aspens out. The cotton woods have been impacted as well, but not as bad as the aspens. The oaks of course are thriving, and the ponderosas seem to be clinging on, thankful for the river. I should cut some of these aspens down, especially the two near the house, and a few more near the road, but I’ll wait until next summer.

I’ve decided to stop feeding the hummingbirds, they can be so ungrateful in their squabbles. The skunk migration seems to have subsided, though I continue to walk gingerly through the woods. I came face to face with a cutie yesterday, a real handsome fella with a wet pink nose. The grass is waist high from recent rains, so the skunks have taken to moving about with their tails held high-the better to be seen.  

The ponderosas are fruiting which means lots of squirrels. The little fuckers gnaw and peel noisily through maturing green cones to get at the plump piney seeds. In the process, scattering chips and pine needle bows all over my groomed bocce court. 

The tadpoles trapped in oxbow pools below the point where the river is diverted to irrigate alfalfa fields have disappeared, replaced by black toads and lime green leopard frogs. There’s a large rainbow trout trapped in one of these pools. When I visit, the poor thing takes cover behind a rock which isn’t quite large enough to conceal his length-a head and tail protrude from each end. He won’t survive the winter in this shallow pool. I thought about trying to catch him and move him back to the river, but I have not quite figured out how to do that. 

The spiders have already started to move back into the house. Long silver threads which I cleaned from the sky lights and rafters just a few weeks back have reappeared. Most of the wildflowers have gone to seed and the the tops of the narrow leaf cotton woods are starting to yellow. Time to return to Oman.

Final Brazos Post
This house continues to hold me in a sleepy grip. Of course, it’s the altitude, the chilly mornings, the late rising sun which doesn’t seem to top the ponderosas until ten. Mexico kicked my ass for sure, so there’s a bit of recovery from that as well, but regardless, this place is for dreaming. Inevitably, I pry myself from the warmth, head downstairs, put on the kettle and grind some beans. My goal each day is to have at least one broject completed before the monsoonal rains seep over the cliffs and fill the valley. After chores, there’s time for the river, time to pull beaver wood out of the swimming hole, and then a short drive to Three Ravens to reconnect with the world.

The ritual of closing up the summer house is always bitter sweet. It usually entails, some cleaning, a little painting, and of course, cleaning up the winter kill of trees. There are a few aspens that have died. Peckerwood went down on its own this past winter. Change climate has been slowing taking these aspens out. The cotton woods have been impacted as well, but not as bad as the aspens. The oaks of course are thriving, and the ponderosas seem to be clinging on, thankful for the river. I should cut some of these aspens down, especially the two near the house, and a few more near the road, but I’ll wait until next summer.

I’ve decided to stop feeding the hummingbirds, they can be so ungrateful in their squabbles. The skunk migration seems to have subsided, though I continue to walk gingerly through the woods. I came face to face with a cutie yesterday, a real handsome fella with a wet pink nose. The grass is waist high from recent rains, so the skunks have taken to moving about with their tails held high-the better to be seen.

The ponderosas are fruiting which means lots of squirrels. The little fuckers gnaw and peel noisily through maturing green cones to get at the plump piney seeds. In the process, scattering chips and pine needle bows all over my groomed bocce court.

The tadpoles trapped in oxbow pools below the point where the river is diverted to irrigate alfalfa fields have disappeared, replaced by black toads and lime green leopard frogs. There’s a large rainbow trout trapped in one of these pools. When I visit, the poor thing takes cover behind a rock which isn’t quite large enough to conceal his length-a head and tail protrude from each end. He won’t survive the winter in this shallow pool. I thought about trying to catch him and move him back to the river, but I have not quite figured out how to do that.

The spiders have already started to move back into the house. Long silver threads which I cleaned from the sky lights and rafters just a few weeks back have reappeared. Most of the wildflowers have gone to seed and the the tops of the narrow leaf cotton woods are starting to yellow. Time to return to Oman.

Silly how excited a grown man can get over a fish…

Enjoying the final days of summer back home on the Los Brazos.
1. Mi casita in evening light
2. Fuck Anglos, a very old trespassing sign-when’s the last time you saw the term Anglos used in a derogatory way? This sign was on our property when we bought it 15 years ago.
3. Finest bocce court in New Mexico
4. Using the sweet new knife Carlito made for me.
5. Three Ravens Coffee shop-closest internet.
6. Live music at Three Ravens-David Hammond band.

Six days in Baja Sur, Mexico condensed into a little over a minute.

Some new images of last week’s roosterfish pulled from the gopro.