PICNIC BY THE PECOS RIVER
******************************
We weren't even married yet, that day in 1956.
as we lolled there on the cool shady lawn along
the Pecos River...on our new Green Stamp
blanket.
One of our mamas had given up several
prized stamp books to make our blanket
possible.
It was our first blanket.
We were at the beach in Carlsbad, having
a picnic of egg salad sandwiches, potato
chips, and cokes. (We'd never heard of
the marvelous Diet Dr. Pepper yet...but
it didn't matter---we were both skinny.)
It was one of the happiest days of our
lives---we lived at Artesia and were down
at Carlsbad, the county seat of Eddy County,
getting our marriage license!
The Pecos River, not a big full river most
of the time, was flowing along, very slowly
and peacefully, in no hurry, and wrens and
chickadees were singing and flitting about
in the trees, over the beautiful lawn which
sloped down to the river.
The sun was shining and the whole world
was young--including "us." We were making
a "day of it!"
We spread our new blanket and sat on it,
and ate, and rested and watched the fluffy N.M.
clouds sail lazily over.
I guess you could say, we were "breaking in"
that blanket for a lifetime of use.
Today, not counting our long love, it may be
the oldest thing we have.
Oh sure, it doesn't look like much now---it is
torn, faded, much of the nap is gone...but...
though the years, good times and bad, it
has been a much-used, faithful companion.
----It has been a "picnic blanket" many times.
----It has been a "lawn blanket" from the earlier
years when the men at family reunions
played mumbledy-peg on the front lawn
after supper...
----It has been a ball game blanket...
----It has been a cushion on hard bleachers...
----BE has worn it around her shoulders, oft...
----It has often been a camping blanket ...
----It has even surrounded frozen steaks, in
transit...
-----It has been a friend...and servant...
Okay, so I'm an old softy when it comes to
blankets; I can't help it. There's a nice homey
feeling of security connected with them.
Actually, being an old-timer, I have a nicer-
looking, heavier blanket in the den for my
Lazy Boy and winter TV watching---but the
old GS blanket of 1956 is still our "GO-TO"
utility blanket.
Instructions at the house here are: if a hobo
ever knocks at the door on a cold night,
looking for a blanket, give him twenty bucks
for a new Walmart blanket--but don't give
away our early-marriage Green Stamp
blanket, now going on 59 years old.
It is almost like a member of the family.
**************
BY MIL
April 21, 2015
The BIG BLUE TRUCK stopped in front....of our house every Tuesday morning...early...
And tooted its big horn loudly, once....
Yes, every week almost without fail...
I wondered about it and got up at the crack of dawn one Tuesday, took my coffee and slunk unseen behind a bush...
It was the house across the street... Our little five-year-old neighbor boy Dressed iIn OSH-KOSH blue bib overalls... Hair slicked and combed, his mama with him...
O, he was waving at the driver of the CITY TRASH TRUCK a big blue one!
And the driver was smiling and waving back!
It happens every week, just the same way...
For you see, my little neighbor HOPES to be A "TRASH MAN" when he grows up!
The big blue trash truck HONKED loudly as it pulled away from the curb. -------------- BY MIL 6/23/15
"SAND" "O HOW I. LOVE THEE..." ************************
Sand...
"As sands thru the hour glass.... So are the days of our lives" An old TV show had it.
It's true.
Sand has always fascinated man... for he can't control it.
Except for some people...like maybe desert nomads. and the Dust Bowl Folks.
They're not...and weren't fascinated.
To men, dirt looks dirty---but sand seems clean.
At the sandy places of the earth, you may want to visit... You can...roll in the sand, downhill... walk in it, barefoot, build castles, bury yourself in it, have a picnic. and then go home...
Things which do not interest desert wanderers.
SAND...
I've seen it flying about, in high winds... Covering highways, burying gardens, and fences, muddying stock tanks...
I've seen it darken the sun.
But O how delightful and beautiful it can be... Reddish tan, light tan, white.... smooth, uniform texture; smooth and almost silky....
With the sand, it's the "little things..." A hunter back in the hills, warm November day...miles from anywhere... quiet and a bit lonely, walkng an old toad, weeds in the middle...
But friendly ruts in that soft sand! I am not alone...someone came by, and my! Those ruts feel good to my boots!
Photographing "WINDOW ROCK..."--- a fine picture, but I notice the sand in the foreground....such incredible ruts in the sand...artistry of its own!
At "WHITE SANDS"---the most fascinating sand of all, it's the ripple-like waves in the sand, and the shadows cast by the ripples...and the half-dead yuccas and scrubby plants, casting theirs shadows, and the sand...and the sun...all things seem eternal...with the sand.
Ah, THE SAND! How oft have I begun poems about thee? Thrice? Never finished them.
That's what a great subject SAND is....it's like writing about "forever."
My sand poems turn out to be books...that's how sand is ---to me!
My roots are Dawson County, Texas. Oh yes! Wonderful sand...there! **************
