Nojave

April 2016

I tripped over some big boots in the dark kitchen, and wanted to move them.  But “They’re my fucken boots and I’ll put em where I want”.  Okay, you cook dinner then, ‘cause I can’t get to the sink.  I scrubbed that chrome trolley with a wire brush, so much stuff on the floor I can’t walk, but now there is a new little fridge in the cabin.  Dinner was spectacular.  I can’t quite determine if I am welcome here or not.  Someone else seems to be here in the room, for sure.  A ghost, perhaps.

We took Westy on a trip up to Hayfork to Tom’s, with a big load of heavy machinery and arcane tools. There was snow on the way back. At some point, we traded rings and it gets real.

April in Mojave, suddenly we’re in the desert. Not crowded at Hole In the Wall, and so many flowers—

Then up to Mid Hills, where the weather was stormy. $6 for a campsite? Wow. There had been a fire when I was here last, ten years ago or so, and dead trees still standing. I scattered some ashes here. After a little missing coffee fiasco we had tea and oatmeal. Too rainy for a cookout or a campfire, and a bit cold, so we set off for a porkchop breakfast in Searchlight.  

Passed up a night in Nipton and went on to Las Vegas, for a real room, hot shower and a clean bed.  I didn’t want a “joke” wedding.  So, two nights at Circus Circus? And a helicopter ride over Lake Mead.

Then on to the Valley of Fire.  The weather had cleared. Didn’t get hitched, didn’t talk about it.  Just to make it legal? No no no no no no. Feeling jilted? No cell service but–hey, we’re on vacation. That’s why we went to town, yo. Out here we’re wild and free. I don’t think there is a deadline, okay?

I mixed an amazing green gold out of Cadmium yellow deep hue and brilliant blue. I think acrylics are a little much for a trip like this. If I had a destination, some time, a studio cabin in the wilderness, or even, I dunno, some stability . . . nothing to show for it, for now. Sketchy watercolors are more amenable.

Then on to . . . A little cafe in Rachel, Nevada.  And then we were three.  We inherited a traveler, so we must travel. Heading north, the storm returned, and we awoke at Spencer’s to snow on the roof and covering the windshield, and our guest sleeping on the floor of the van. Seems the trip is over. Darn, I was planning to at least hit Benton Hot Springs, but I am outnumbered. The snow, the rain, lovely, but it’s wearing, and all the steaks, tuna, salmon and sausages I brought have been et. I wrote a poem. Yup.

Came home to another rude letter from the landlord’s lawyer, so now, another frenzy of relocating everything that would have gone into the shed. That project is kaput, I am in shock.

The view from Spencer’s as it was the first time I saw it, looking north toward hiway 50 and the road to Austin Nevada from Spencer’s Hot Springs