Respect Your Mother Earth

The irresistible keyhole cave in Palo Duro Canyon.

I took a little open air tour of Santa Fe to get my bearings. It was a good way to see the sights, even if I do look like a tourist riding on this vehicle that looks like it used to shuttle people back and forth from the parking lot to the Astrodome and back again. Truth is I am a tourist and so are most of the folks staring and trying to act cool. All I've got to say to them is, "Get over it!"

So, back to my story.

Meanwhile back at Palo Duro Canyon and the keyhole cave . . . .



I heard sirens and stopped to check it out. Someone had gone up into the cave and slipped. I parked the truck in one of the areas for pulling over and taking in the scenic views. Two ambulances and at least four patrol cars later the work of getting this guy down out of the cave began. He had to be gurneyed out. It didn't look like fun. When they brought him down he was strapped in and had a neck brace on. He wasn't doing much talking.

I'll tell you it made me think twice about taking off all by my lonely. This guy had been lucky in a way. There were folks with him and they were able to signal for help, otherwise he would have been S. O. L.

It is not a bad thing to know your limits. I talked to some of the EMS guys. They said that they have to go get people out of places like this cave on a pretty regular basis. I don't plan on being one of those folks. They said one of the worst spots in the park for accidents is called The Devil's Slide. Now that ought to give you a clue, huh?

It's good to respect your Mother Earth.

Hudspeth House and the search for Georgia O'Keeffe

I'm writing this in Santa Fe at the Ghost Ranch facility. Please pardon me if I seem a bit frazzled, but it was one long drive from Canyon.

Hudspeth House

My room at the tip-top of Hudspeth House.

I moved over to Hudspeth House yesterday morning. It is truly beautiful and Connie and John Okill, the owners, were wonderful and incredibly helpful in my O'Keeffe mission. They directed me to the house that O'Keeffe roomed in when she taught here in Canyon.

The D. A. Shirley house in Canyon where O'Keeffe was a boarder.

John also gave me a print of the O'Keeffe letter that was found there. Now keep in mind that O'Keeffe lived in Canyon from 1916 through spring of 1918. The letter is dated 1955 and O'Keeffe was writing to Ms Shirley, the owner of the house, about picking up two barrels of belongings she left there back in 1918! I love it!

I went to the Panhandle Plains Historical Museum and looked at the art exhibit that they had up.

I stopped into the Buffalo Bookstore and found more friendly helpful folks. I desperately needed to replace my road atlas. They sent me over to Hastings Entertainment where I found everything that I needed and a cup of coffee.

I made two trips to Palo Duro Canyon, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

The morning trip was a hiking test. I wanted to try the Lighthouse Trail, but wasn't sure that I was up to it. Sure enough I was right. I took off on the newest and one of the easiest trails in the park. It starts up by the Visitor Orientation Center. At the outset, up at the rim of the canyon, it seemed almost cool with a strong breeze. I had my hat and new hiking shoes on and was carrying my walking stick and two bottles of water. I had a lovely hike, but I'm not 20 years old any more and I weigh a few extra pounds, too. I headed back to the truck after about an hour hike, so two hours total. I got a bit of sun, but the real problem seems to do with lung capacity and stamina. I had pneumonia five years ago and things have never been quite the same.

I owe my dad a big debt for the enjoyment that I got out of that hike. He used to take me along fishing and on walks in the woods when I was a kid. I learned to be quiet and still. It was a good lesson. I listened to bird calls, cicadas, and the sound of the wind. I could smell cedar trees. I sat and watched two road runners not more than fifteen feet from me. I saw lizards, butterflies, caterpillars and more. The real high point, and you may not believe this, but it's true, was watching a bunch of dung beetles do their job. Amazing! I took a picture of them at work. I'll share it with you later. A job for everyone and for everyone a job!

My afternoon hike taught me even more. I learned about respecting your limits and your environment by watching someone else. I was taking Alternate Park Road 5 when I heard sirens. You can't even imagine how out of place that is in the canyon.

There is a cave within view of the road. It is really a tempting place. It's an easy hike. The mouth of it is about, rough guess here, 40 feet high and it looks like a big key hole. I had noticed it the day before and watched a couple of guys scramble around it. I climbed up relatively close to the mouth. It had been eroded and had an opening at the far end, so I suppose it was more of a tunnel. I decided not to make a go of it. I had on the wrong shoes and it just didn't seem like the best idea.

Whoops! I'll continue later. My ride is here!

Palo Duro Canyon or Bust!

What a day yesterday was!

It started in Austin under gray skies. I drove down 71 just west of Marble Falls. Now if you are not in Texas you may not know that Marble Falls got 19 inches of rain on Wednesday. You also may not know that Marble Falls is the wrong place for this much water to come down from the heavens. When I passed through there appeared to be no end to the rain in sight. It was amazing to see the Hill Country this way.

There was one frightening moment. The rain was really coming down hard and I didn't see the water covering the road until I hit it. Couple of heart stopping moments and I drove on.

I've never seen the Hill Country so green! Before I left Houston a friend, learning of my route, said, "Oh, you're going to see a lot of brown." I wish that had been true.

Somewhere between there and Abilene the rain began to become sporadic. Every time that I thought it had stopped it started right back up, but the drops became smaller and the cloudbursts became shorter. Finally I could see occasional flecks of blue sky among the clouds.

I don't think I've ever been happier to get through anything.

Somewhere north of Abilene the sky started really clearing.

I passed an oilfield. The landscape was speckled with rocker arms rising and falling like wierd insects sucking up the earth's life force.

I passed a wind farm. Here giant propellers were set on top of a mesa like a giant's playground. It looked totally surreal. Salvador Dali would have loved it. It reminded me of the Pinwheels for Peace project. (If you haven't heard of it give it a google and check it out.)

I drove all day, literally, and ended up at Palo Duro Canyon. Talk about amazing! One minute I was driving along across flat prairie land, the next the canyon suddenly appeared to the right of me.

I drove around the Palo Duro Canyon State Park and even stopped and walked a bit. I wasn't really ready to hike around or take pictures. At the least I needed a change of shoes to be ready to go rockhopping. I didn't think I would be here so soon.

I headed into Canyon, Texas about 12 miles away and drove up and down one of the two main drags trying to decide where to stay the night. I was feeling a bit grungy and stiff.

Remembering my purpose I looked around for some of my landmarks. Hudspeth House Inn is located on the 4th Avenue along with a Holiday Inn, Best Western and West Texas A & M University. Elizabeth Hudspeth was one of Georgia O'Keeffe's fellow teachers at West Texas Normal College, now West Texas A & M. I thought about stopping there, but I wasn't sure that I was up to it yet.

So, I filled up the topped up the gas tank for the third time that day and went eeny-meeny-miny-mo between Best Western and the Holiday Inn which were conveniently located side by side across the street from the gas station. Best Western won out.

I thought about going out to eat. I thought about going back down to the truck and driving around. I thought about a lot of things. My final decision was a long hot bath and bed.

Best Western is not a bad little place to stay. The room was immaculately clean. There was a small fridge, a microwave, DVD player and all the basic necessities, too. I went to the truck and got a yogurt and some granola to have for breakfast. I forgot my mayonnaise at home, so I had my second dry bologna sandwich of the day washed down with a Coke from the vending machine for dinner.

Got up this morning and took a long shower. A quick call to Hudspeth House over my yogurt and granola breakfast and I'm good to go.

I'll stay at Hudspeth House tonight. I'll tell you about it later. Right now I've got to get back to the canyon.

A very rainy morning in Austin. Thankfully the storms stayed just to the east of me on the way up.

I'm heading out shortly. Spent the night at Jesse and Sinda's (my stepson and his wife) on the edge of Austin. Thai food for dinner. Read books to the granddaughters, Hannah and Hazel. In bed by 10:00.

I woke up this morning with a start and the realization that my guidebooks and maps are safely at home in my dining room. Oh, well. No need for vicarious experience here. It's time for the real thing. Time to get my nose out of the books and keep my eyes on the road. Time to drive. Time to write and draw and paint.

I have my AAA printouts and a borrowed, tattered map of Texas. The map reminds me of Mission Impossible. "Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to drive as far as you can towards Palo Duro Canyon. This map will self-destruct by the time you get to Santa Fe."

'Nough said and written. Time to drive. Wild women start your engines!

Ooops!

What's smaller than a Jeep Cherokee? A Jeep Liberty!

Just a minor update

It's not a Ford Escape. It's a cute little baby, a blue Jeep Cherokee with four wheel drive. Maybe this one will get a chance to do what it's made to do, heh-heh!

Departure in about an hour. Next stop Austin and a chance to test the tent and other gear.

Today is The Day

I’m waiting for time to pick up the rental vehicle. I’ve rented a “mid-sized SUV”. If it’s what the rental place promised, a Ford Escape, it has basically the same frame as my little Ranger pick-up truck. I’ve driven my truck for twelve years now, so I’m comfortable with it. It has enough clearance to take wherever I want to go. It has enough height so that I can see the highway ahead. Gas mileage with the current prices is worrisome, but I’ll just have to live with it.

Excited, fearful, circling around with the last minute jitters. Have I forgotten anything? Probably. Am I packing too much stuff? Probably.

My husband, Joel, has been watching me do this for days now.

I pack. I unpack. I pack again. Too much or too little?

Joel keeps reminding me that I am not going to another planet. He’s pretty sure that I’ll be able to get whatever I need along the way. I do believe he might be right.

Ah, Stuff, you are my defense against anxiety. Feel anxious? Surround yourself with more stuff. I wish it worked as something beyond distraction. Too soon the love affair is over and all my beautiful stuff just turns to crappy clutter.

I find myself wondering, when Georgia O'Keeffe drove from New York to New Mexico, how much stuff do you think she carried? I know from reading her letters to Maria Chabot that she shipped things to New Mexico, but she was going for three to six months at a time. I try to imagine what she would have done back in the 1920s and 30s if she had all our modern conveniences. My excuse for carrying all this gear is that I used to be a Girl Scout and I'm just trying to “Be Prepared”. It sounds good in theory, but right now it is wearing a bit thin.

It’s OK. I’ll cull things as I pack the truck. Barring that, I’m a very spatial/visual thinker. In other words, I’ll make it all fit.

Things that I need to do, could do, should do, all these things circle around inside my head.

I meant to clean out the refrigerator. I can get rid of some of this anxious energy doing that while I wait for it to be time to pick up the rental vehicle.

I didn’t pick up rawhide chews for Ubu, the amazing Australian cattle dog. Joel will have to take care of that. He’s listened patiently while I’ve told him over and over how to get Ubu to take his medicine. I’m leaving them to console each other in my absence.

The ominous “I’ve-missed-something” feeling is going like a hyperactive hamster sprinting on a really squeaky exercise wheel. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right? But what to do when it’s between your ears? Slow down. Take a breath.

I check my lists of things to do. I’ve e-mailed friends and family. I’ve confirmed the car reservation. I took bags of newspapers and broken down cardboard boxes to the paper recycling bin. I typed up my itinerary complete with phone numbers and addresses for Joel. While I was packing I discovered clothes that didn't fit, so I took them all to the donation bin of the nearest thrift shop.

I check my lists of things to pack. (Please notice, I said lists plural.) I think I’ve got it all from art supplies to underwear.

There is nothing to do right now except the little stuff: eat breakfast, wash the dishes, wipe down the counter. If I finish everything I can always sit and watch the minute hand move on the kitchen clock and listen to its ticking. It’ll be time soon enough.

This is what summer is for or why I don't teach summer school

Summer is the time that I recharge. For ten months out of the year, I teach art in an elementary school. I teach pre-kindergarten through fifth grade. I’ve been in the same school now for nine years.

My first six years in public schools I spent in a middle school. My students ranged from sixth through eighth grade, that’s about 11 to almost 16 years old depending on their history with the education system.

Before I began teaching in public school I taught as a visual artist/instructor for a wide range of organizations, museums, arts organizations, after-school programs. I worked on individual contracts with each job different from the rest. My schedule was loosely two months on and one month off. This meant that just about the time that I had begun to relax and get back to making art it was time to start over again. Back then I taught every summer.

I have two grown children. During the summer when they were small they went with me wherever I went. This meant that they got exposed to a lot of really wonderful stuff: art, dance, music, acting and voice lessons. They also got to share their mom with other children. They took it pretty well, but by the end of a long day of working with small children I didn’t want to hear anyone calling my name or have anyone tug at my sleeve. My kids turned out well, all considered, which is to say that I am very proud of both of them.

In addition to teaching art I would go with the children and chaperone them at their afternoon activity, which was normally swimming. This entailed a great deal of time in the changing rooms helping tiny little girls into even tinier swimsuits. Once in the pool I would be encircled by little people who wanted to be in the water, but hadn’t yet learned to swim. I stayed in the shallow end of the pool with them, making sure that I could count all of their heads at any given moment. I never lost one.

Nowadays I take the summers off. I have ever since I started teaching in public school. I also try to keep my holidays free during the school year.

There is a popular misconception that teachers “get the summer off”, that this is vacation time for us. I suppose you could call it that. Teachers like me are on a contract that pays us for ten months of the year. Although I work ten months a year my pay is spread over the full twelve months. This allows me a certain amount of freedom over the summer. It also brings up some entertaining questions about money and why teachers don’t receive interest payments for letting the school districts hold on to the money that we’ve already earned, but not received. Anyway, that is a whole different matter and I’ll save it for a later date and a more appropriate place.

I use my summers to regroup and catch up on all the things that I fall behind on during the school year. My house is normally a shambles by the time that summer rolls around. I sort through piles of accumulated papers. I read books pertaining to my teaching field, which is art. I go to museums and galleries although here in Houston we have a definite summer lull as far as art openings and events go. I work in my studio. If I can afford it, I travel. I attend professional development workshops and classes. At some point in all of this I start to think about the coming school year and plan for what will be.

By mid-August I’ll be ready to go back into my classroom. My enthusiasm will be restored. I’ll return refreshed and relaxed, ready to face all the eager young folks that enter my room.

The times in which we live

Each of us is a product of the times in which we live. As I do the research for this trip to Northern New Mexico I become more and more aware of this.

I was born into a world just beginning to fill with technological wonders. My family’s mobility was made possible by the automobile. The television brought information directly and rapidly into our home, whether we lived in a trailer or a house. Friends and relatives were just a phone call away.

In reality, I never felt true need. There has always been enough, enough food, shelter and clothing. If there wasn’t enough it could easily be found, either through the state, the church, charities, or family and friends. The few times I have gone hungry it has been by choice and pride, not by necessity.

As I read about O’Keeffe I realize the differences in our worlds. She was born in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin in 1887. Her family moved first to Williamsburg and then to Charlottesville, but I have to remember that these moves took place before the interstate highway system latticed this country coast to coast.

The differences are certainly not just material or physical. In 1918, when Georgia O’Keeffe was teaching in Canyon, Texas, women did not have the right to vote. Don’t even ask about birth control or whether she was pro-choice or anti-abortion. These weren’t matters to be mentioned in polite society. Women’s rights were a controversial issue that landed more than a few suffragettes in jail.

Pause for a moment and imagine no telephones interrupting or intruding, not at home, not during dinner, not in a theatre. No cell phones ringing in purses and pockets. No folks walking around looking like escapees from some rubber room as they gesture and talk animatedly into the cyborg earpiece only barely visible except for the occasional blink of blue light through their hair.

Imagine writing letters that would take days, even weeks to reach their destination, rather than calling or firing off an e-mail or a text message. Imagine communicating with well chosen words painstakingly committed to paper by hand. If “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and “familiarity breeds contempt”, how would your relationships be altered if you could only be with your friends and loved ones when you were present in the same physical space?

Imagine no monkey chatter from the television, radio or whatever other device you use to keep you company and run distraction. Imagine being able to be truly alone without having to go somewhere far away.

Imagine music without amplification. No leakage from the earbuds of some person nearby who is working on their future deafness. Imagine only being able to hear music performed by real live people on acoustic instruments. You might even imagine making music yourself, maybe with your friends.


Imagine quiet. Remember after 9/11 when the sky was still and silent rather than full of metal birds full of people. Expand that quiet. Expand it into silence, no freeway roar, no car alarms, no booming bass beat rattling the windows, no air conditioner hum.

Once several years back I was privileged to go to a retreat center out in the hill country of central Texas. It took over twenty-four hours for me to realize that the sound that I was hearing was the absence of all the constant droning of city life. I was able to hear silence. I had a similar experience on my first Fund for Teachers Fellowship when I was in Venice. Something felt lacking and I only finally realized what it was after walking the streets and alleys for several hours – there were no automobiles, no trucks, no motorcycles. I sat on a bench near my hotel in the evening and listened to the sounds of Venice. It was wonderful.

I could go on and on. I passed the half century mark a couple of years back so all I have to do is remember. Maybe you can join me in remembering.

Remember small neighborhood stores before the day of shopping malls and big box stores? Remember slowing down in the summer? Remember open windows and shades closed against noon day heat? Remember the coolness of air blown over a shallow tray of water by an oscillating fan, the fan that your mother swore would chop off your fingers? Remember singing into that same fan, amusing yourself on a summer’s afternoon with the way it chopped up the sound of your voice? Remember letting the seasons touch you, really feeling the changes in the air?

Remember eating foods in their seasons? Oranges were special in the winter because they really were special. Remember when going out and having a burger at the local burger joint was a real treat that happened once in a blue moon rather than some way to shut the kids up on the way home? Remember when having a soda was a luxury? Do you remember back before we super-sized everything?

I’m not a Luddite. I own all the modern conveniences that I can possibly afford. I drool over the latest technology, but I have to tell you that I am looking forward to this summer. I’m looking forward to trying to experience as much as I can the way that Georgia O’Keeffe experienced it in 1929, but the highways I drive will be different from the dirt roads that she took and I think I’ll enjoy the road music I’ve been loading into my iPod.

And the planning goes on and on

Please excuse the long gaps between posts. I don't want to bore you and sometimes it seems that what I have to say is just the same old thing over and over again, at least until the rubber hits the highway. Updates are only merited when I have something new to say or tell.

Planning is ongoing. This last week I made various reservations, some more exciting than others. The updated plan is going something like this:

Wednesday 27 June, pick up the rental vehicle. I've reserved a midsize SUV. It may eat up alot of gas, but it has a higher clearance and more room for art and art supplies. I'll pack up and head towards Austin and San Antonio. I plan to spend the night in Austin and catch up with friends.

Thursday 28 June, driving, driving, driving until I get to Abilene where I'll stay for the night in what my one of my friends refers to as an "HBO Pool". He swears they are his favorite hotel/motel chain. I'll take anything that doesn't start with "Bates". I'll need a good night's rest to prepare for the next day.

Friday 29 June, more driving, driving, driving to Canyon, Texas and the Elizabeth Hudspeth House, now called the Hudspeth Inn. O'Keeffe used to take meals here during the 'teens when she was teaching at West Texas Normal College, now West Texas A & M. I have O'Keeffe's various addresses around Canyon and Amarillo in addition to Palo Duro Canyon to make the rounds of.

Saturday 30 June, more of the same driving, driving, driving. Plenty of coffee and I should make it to Santa Fe where I'll stay in the Ghost Ranch facility in the center of town. This is not
the same as staying at the original Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu although both are run by the same people, the Presbyterians, these days. I've been reading up on the original ranch in a book entitled "Ghost Ranch" by Lesley Poling-Kempes. I'll save all that info for later.

Sunday 1 July through Wednesday 4 July, Taos, New Mexico and the Sagebrush Inn. Time to rest up from the road and adjust to being in New Mexico. The Sagebrush Inn is another O'Keeffe site. She stayed here for the first time in the 1930 after tiring of the bustle at Los Gallos, Mabel Dodge Luhan's house. Here she found the ambiance that she needed to work. According to the website she used Room 301 as a studio in subsequent stays. This place comes highly recommended by friends of mine who have spent time painting in the area. I got a room on the courtyard in the original building. I'm hoping to get some drawing and painting in. There are so many places that I want to go in the surrounding area, too many to mention. I'll just have to see how it goes.

Thursday 5 July through Tuesday 10 July, heck if I know. I haven't made any reservations. At this point I'm planning on going back in to Santa Fe. Hopefully I will be able to use the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum's library and research center. All of my reading has brought up a lot of questions and I am hoping to use primary sources to find my answers.

Tuesday 10 July to Monday 16 July, I'll be staying at the Ghost Ranch facility in Santa Fe and attending "Santa Fe - Folk Art Traditions and Beyond".

Monday 16 July through Friday 20 July it's off to Canyon de Chelly, Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon to look at the Anasazi ruins. An art teacher friend from Houston will be joining me for the next week. There are plenty of interesting places to check out along the way. The Black Place, a location that O'Keeffe traveled to and painted numerous times is near Chaco Canyon.

Saturday 21 July and Sunday 22 July will find me staying at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House in Taos. I've reserved the Georgia O'Keeffe room. This is the actual room that Georgia O'Keeffe stayed in on her first extended trip to New Mexico in 1929.

Monday 23 July and Tuesday 24 July are two more no reservations days. All I know is I have to drop my friend off in Santa Fe so that she can make it back to Houston.

Tuesday 24 July through Friday 27 July, I'm staying at the Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu. I've scheduled a tour of the O'Keeffe home and studio in Abiquiu on Wednesday 25 July. I'm staying up on the mesa.

Saturday 28 July through Tuesday July 31, I head back for Texas. My plan is to drive in through West Texas. If at all possible I'll make it back through Big Bend and the Davis Mountains. You'll just have to stay tuned for this last leg. I'm hoping my husband will meet me in Austin and we can drive back to Houston together.

Wednesday August 1 I turn the rental back in and pay up.

Home, where I can begin to put together a scrapbook of sorts as a report on the whole journey. I'm hoping to post entries in 1001 Journals along the way, but that will depend on availability of a scanner and such. We'll see.