After flying for 19 hours, we finally touched down in Las Vegas. We rented the car and rove off to find my old gas station in Chloride, my home, my refuge, my other place, my other life, the small town away from high culture and endless traffic jams. Doggy Dog seemed to recognize the place and felt right at home. Of course, the place had been gathering dust for about ten month so there was some work to be done, to make the house livable again. And then came the storm: the tin plates from the garage were flapping and making a lot of noise. So I have been looking for someone, to put all the loose stuff back together again... In the hopes that it doesn't fall apart in the next storm. The back house, after two downpours developed two minor leaks, but it is obvious we shouldn't wait till the next heavy rain, which might then complicate matters. Coming back here the first days when a lot of of stuff must be repaired lends a distopian feeling to the place. But that smooths away after a short while when I look at the gorgeous mountains. Yet I keep worrying about the leaks in the Old Library. But today was not really a workday. On the contrary it was Old Miners Day, with stands and a parade and gunfights at Cyanide Springs. People dress up for these occasions: there are two groups of people doing skids and short exchanges, always with loud bangs from the black powder guns.
The parade itself is fun: Topnotch old cars driving through, horses and goats, old fire trucks, even the democrats were there in this mainly republican town. Yet also the republican ladies know how to bake, so we don't discriminate in buying some sweets at the bake sale. I usually buy Nadine's work: she is more refined in her backing than some of the other ladies.
Of course on a day like this one meets the whole town, so Lisa who will do my laundry and let me use her vacuum cleaner, Dan, who walks around on such occasion as a civil war survivor in his grey uniform. People traipse through my yard. Some know better than I when something went missing in my absence. This year it was a spoked wheel, rather nifty...
I look at the clouds coming from the north: ranging from white areas to the darkest thunderstorm gray. I can see just one spot of blue sky.
This time not pictures, since I cannot download my pictures on my laptop. Something is wrong somewhere. You'll have to make do without the visual information. I would have loved to show you the beautiful appaloosa on her first parade. It was a fun day and seeing old friends again is a good thing.
Clowns from Amsterdam
6 years ago