Sunset of the Blog

We are drawing near the end of our stay here in Deming -- less than a week away. It seems almost like a graduation, a moving on, and we do plan to be present for our son Neal's graduation from West Salem High School in early June. 

Agapi and I will be traveling for close to a month, up to Oregon (for Neal), then across the States back to Ohio. We will miss the dry sunny weather and the desert wildlife and vegetation and distant mountains. No question. We also will be glad to get back to our community of friends and forest and college town. 

It will be incredibly great to see Neal in Oregon, and to live near Maura again in Columbus, and to have Jesse within one day driving distance in New Bern, NC. On our return in late June, we will have missed the spring season in Ohio, plunging right into summer -- hot, sticky, and uncomfortable -- but, again, surrounded by friends, attending drumming, going to potlucks and other get-togethers. 

Here are a few departing shots of the Florida (pronounced "floreeda") Mountains as viewed from the front porch of the house here in Deming. Most are of the many moods of sunrise rather than sunset. So really not an end at all. With that in mind, I leave you and this project with one of my favorite quotes from transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau: 

"Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me"

¡¡ Menudo !!

Menudo is popular because in Mexican culture it is believed to be medicine for a hangover. Restaurants often feature it as a special on Saturday and Sunday and a few places have it every day.

I have been reluctant, hesitant, even fearful of trying it. Not sure exactly why. You would think, that as a son of East Europeans (Latvians), I would not be adverse to organ meat -- jellied pork (galerts), blood sausage, chicken livers and all that. But... cow stomach?

Yes, tripe is, if not the main ingredient, the most significant in menudo. This soup is prepared in a broth heavily spiced with red chile peppers and buffered with lots of hominy. Lots of hominy... one bowl can make one feel over-full for hours. Fresh chopped onions, cilantro, sliced radishes, and lettuce are added for topping. Tortillas on the side.

Incidentally, this is practically the same base for posole (the image you see here), which is made with pork instead of tripe.

I suppose I was afraid the tripe would be tough. I have learned, however, that menudo takes over seven hours to prepare (probably why it is made mainly for weekend consumption). I was concerned, too, about the possible addition of epazote, an herb used in much of Mexican cooking, which is said to be an "acquired taste." In large quantities epazote is also said to be poisonous!

Nevertheless, at El Mirador, our favorite restaurant in Deming, one day I raised my spoon and took the plunge.

Nothing.

The tripe was not tough; rather, it practically melted in my mouth. It was also tasteless. I tried the dish again at ¡Ándele! Restaurante in Old Mesilla (Las Cruces). I liked that better, but I think I will stick with posole.

Despite my efforts, I think, tripe will continue to have a reputation for toughness -- as it ever has. Here is an article (my ulterior motive for this blog post) that appeared in "The Silver City Enterprise," February 8, 1883 (a dispatch from "The Burlington Hawkeye"). I hope you enjoy it. It gave me a huge and hearty (organ-meaty) laugh.

What Tripe Is.

Occasionally you see a man order tripe at a hotel, but he always looks hard, as though he hated himself and everybody else. He tries to look as though he enjoys it but he does not. Tripe is indigestible, and looks like an India-rubber apron for a child to sit on. When it is pickled it looks like dirty clothes put on to soak, and when it is cooking it looks as though the cook was boiling a dish-cloth. On the table it looks like glue, and tastes like a piece of oil silk umbrella cover. A stomach that is not lined with corrugated iron would be turned inside out by the smell of tripe. A man eating tripe at a hotel table looks like an Arctic explorer dining on his boots or eating a piece of frozen raw dog. You cannot look at a man eating tripe but he will blush and look as though he wanted to apologize and convince you he was taking it to tone up his system. A woman never eats tripe. There is not enough money in the world to hire a woman to take a corner of a sheet of tripe in her teeth and try to pull off a piece. Those who eat tripe are men who have had their stomachs play mean tricks on them, and they eat tripe to get even with their stomachs, and then they go and take a Turkish bath to sweat it out of the system. Tripe is a superstition handed down form a former generation of butchers, who sold all the meat and kept the tripe for themselves and their dogs, but the dogs of the present day will not eat tripe. You throw a piece of tripe down in front of dog, and see if he does not stick his tail between his legs and go off and hate you. Tripe may have a value, but not as food. It may be good to fill into a burglar-proof safe, with the cement and chilled steel, or it might answer to use as a breast-plate in time of war, or it would be good to use as bumpers between cars, or it would make a good face for the weight of a pile-driver, but when you come to smuggle it into the stomach you do wrong. Bah! A piece of Turkish towel cooked in axle-grease would be pie compared with tripe.

Unraveling the Mummy Mystery...

The brochures at the visitor center make no mention of it. None of the magazines I've seen promoting New Mexico tourism mention it in connection with the Gila Cliff Dwellings. Yet, there is an under-the-radar story that keeps surfacing of a mummy found in these once-inhabited caves in the Gila National Forest north of Silver City and Pinos Altos. A story that, at the same time, won't go away and won't quite manifest as fully credible.

The Gila Cliff Dwellings are at the dead-end of NM 15 and at the convergence of the three main forks of the Gila River. The drive into the valley is steep, winding, and guard-rail free, dropping a couple of thousand feet rapidly past spectacular views and teeth-clenching precipices. The river valley itself is a wreck. A massive flood two years ago left behind a vast scoured mess of broken trees, gravel, rock and other debris. An easy 1/4-mile climb leads up a narrow side canyon to the cliff dwellings at about 100 feet above the canyon floor.

Modest compared to Mesa Verde and other cliff dwellings of the Southwest, this former home of the Mogollón people consists of 40 small structures in seven mostly connected caves. Based on tree-ring analysis of the timbers used to shore up their stone-and-mortar houses, the Mogollón lived here from about 1267 to 1300 A.D. They appear to have been related to the Pueblos of the Tularosa region about 60 miles northwest, sharing cultural characteristics with those people as revealed in their pottery and in the construction of their homes. They also may have had influences from as far south as Mexico through trade.

I first came across mention of a mummy in the autobiography of H.B. Ailman, miner, merchandiser, and banker during the 1880s, whose former home now houses the Silver City Museum. He describes visiting the caves in 1878, on a hunting trip he undertook expressly to escape a jury duty call by the Sheriff.

He himself found only a few dried corncobs, four to five inches long and about the width of his middle finger. However, he says that the following year another party stopped in to explore the caves and, underneath a stone discovered a hole "in which lay a package." Unwrapped, the package revealed the mummy of an infant evidently only a few days old. Here's his description of the find:

It was thoroughly dried up and weighed only a few ounces. The face was still quite distinguishable, and there was a little tuft of hair still on the back of its head. Later it fell into the hands of a friend of mine who photographed it, making several pictures, one of which is within my reach as I write.

Photo courtesy of the Silver City Museum

The photographer was Rev. R.E. Pierce, pastor of the Methodist Church in Silver City. The remains reportedly were sent on to the Smithsonian Institution. There is no record, however, of those remains in Washington D.C.

The next recorded visit to the Gila Dwellings was by archeologist Adolph F. Bandelier in January 1884. His book, published by the Archaeological Institute in 1890-1892, makes no mention of artifacts found in the caves. Nor of any mummies. However, quite a number of homesteaders had moved into the Gila River headwaters area by 1883, and several showed him stone axes, sandals woven from yucca fiber, and a vessel for carrying water which they said had been taken from the site. In his report, Bandelier noted that the dwellings had been thoroughly "rifled" when he visited.

One homesteader and prospector, James A. McKenna, reports exploring the upper cliff dwellings in the summer of 1884, about 6 months after Bandelier's archaeological probings. In his _Black Range Tales_, McKenna tells of uncovering pottery with exotic depictions of animals, such as deer, elk, and bears, as well as corn cobs, beans, and pumpkin seeds, and:

The most interesting thing we found was a perfect mummy with cottonwood fiber woven around it. The sex had either decayed or been removed, but all who saw the mummy believed it to be the remains of a female. The length of the figure was about eighteen inches. It lay with knees drawn up and the palms of the hands covering the face. The features were like those of a Chinese child, with high cheek bones and coarse dark hair. The age of the child at the time of death was thought to be two years. The body was kept for weeks in the show window of a store in Silver City.

This mummy was sent off to Washington D.C. with a man named Webster who said he was with the Smithsonian Institution. He promised to return the mummy to Silver City in a few months. When McKenna checked, the Smithsonian responded they knew no one named Webster doing research for them in the Gila headwaters area. Subsequently, they did not have the mummy.

The Hill brothers, owners of a hot springs resort on the Gila River, were the next to find a mummy. Newspapers in Silver City, Chicago, St. Louis, and Tuscon in 1892 described the find. On the website for the National Park Service, a document titled _Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument; An Administrative History_ describes it:

Several years earlier, in 1889, the brothers had also found a burial at the cliff dwellings: the desiccated body of a child who appeared to be about four years old. Wrapped in cloths and bound to a piece of wood, the body was well preserved with still perfect fingernails, intact teeth, and soft black hair.

Based on the description in these newspaper reports, the author of the park service document suggests the child may not have been a Mogollón cliff dweller of the late 13th Century at all, but an Apache of a more contemporary period. The Hill brothers may have instead found the body on a funeral platform of yucca stalks, located about 150 feet up the canyon wall opposite the caves.

This discovery also was allegedly sent on to the Smithsonian Institution. Benjamin Elmer Pierce, son of Rev. R.E. Pierce, was the photographer this time. There is no evidence the Smithsonian has either the photograph or the body of this child.

Yet a fourth claim for a mummy found in "Gila Canyon" was registered in the popular press. Manitoba journalist and editorial writer Agnes C. Laut wrote about it for the February 13, 1913 issue of Sunset magazine. In her article "Walking Among Cavemen," she called the mummy "Zeke," and expressed the view that here at last was evidence of a dwarf race of homo sapiens. (!) In her estimation, the mummy was 8,000 years old and, though only 23" long, an adult. In her lively style, Laut offers this description:

Anyway, there lies little Zeke -- a long time asleep, wrapped in cerements of fine woven cloth with fluffy ruffles and folderols of woven blue-jay and bluebird and hummingbird feathers round his neck. You will please to remember that in the trifling long ago of 8,000 or 10,000 years our ancestors wore chiefly their birthday suits. Yet Zeke's people understood weaving. Also Zeke wears on his feet sandals of yucca fiber and matting.

She goes on to say:

How is it known that Zeke is a type of race and not a freak specimen of a dwarf? Because other like specimens have been found in the same area in the last 10 years, and because the windows and doors of the cave dwellings of the Gila would not admit anything but a dwarf race. They may not all have been 24 and 36 and 40 inches, but no specimens the size of the mummies in other prehistoric dwellings have been found in the Gila.

This fourth mummy was found in 1912, and according to the document on the National Park Service web site, was the only mummy to reach the Smithsonian. The author of that piece further questions whether, in recounting their experiences, Ailman and McKenna may not have remembered correctly, whether, in fact, there may have been only one mummy found ever.

Again, my search in the Smithsonian online record of its archives calls up nothing about the Gila Cliff Dwellings related to "mummy," "Zeke," or even "dwarf homo sapiens." Yet, through other searches, I do come across an entity that existed during 1881-1911 called the United States National Museum, a kind of short-lived offshoot of the Smithsonian that included the following entry in its Bulletin (now a Google e-book):

Mr. A.J. Connell, acting forest supervisor of the Gila National Forest, sent to the Museum, through the United States Department of Agriculture, a mummy of infant [sic] from a cave on the West Fork of the upper Gila River called Gila Cliff Dwelling. This mummy (pl. 29, fig. 1) is a child a few months old. It lies on a wildcat skin, and was so buried in the débris of the cave. With the body is a hank of fiber of yucca... held by a winding of yucca cord, the material of which appears to be the wool of the mountain goat. A small mass, apparently dried food, and a small section of wildcat skin... also accompany the mummy. The clothing consists of a sleeveless jacket of rabbit fur and a waist garment in form of a band made of pretty downy feathers of the blue jay and other birds. This band is wrapped around the body, and at one extremity is attached a rabbit-fur band which passes between the legs and is secured by a cord at the other end of the band. The weaving of both the garments is of fiber cord; the rabbit skin is cut in strips, twisted and held in place by twined weaving. The doll and mass of fiber (doll bed) were found close to the body. Some needles of longleaf pine were with the mummy. The burial was in that described in the Tularose Cave in a bed of grass and was covered with cinders and débris from the walls of the cave. (Cat. No. 27340, U.S.N.M.)

And here's pl. 29, fig 1. from that publication...

What a puzzle! Yet, still other contradictions can be found in this still unresolved mystery:

i.   An editor's footnote in Ailman's book describing the mummy states as follows:

The mummy was discovered in 1899 by the Hill brothers who owned the Hot Springs ranch. In 1892 they conducted a representative of the Smithsonian Institution through the cliff dwellings and turned the mummy over to him.

Okay, the 1899 is a typo. However, look again, could the mummy in the photograph that Ailman held in his hand while writing his memoirs be that of a 4-year-old child?

Photo courtesy of the Silver City Museum.

ii. Ailman's description of the mummy as being a few days old does not seem quite right either -- though I do not doubt these were the images he was looking at. A few months old seems more accurate to me.

iii. Next, look again at McKenna's description of the mummy he claims he found. Can a 2-year-old child be only 18 inches long?

iv. Last and maybe least, in January of 1884, Bandelier writes that the roofs of sticks, grass, and adobe mud that once covered the cliff houses were all burnt by Apaches. In summer of 1884, McKenna describes the roofs as still intact. Further complicating matters, despite the notes in his on-site journals, Bandelier in his final report in 1890 writes that the roofs were intact.

Is the mystery solved? Apparently not... Perhaps an Hercule Poirot or an Agatha Christie will want to take a stab at it some day. Until then, I will continue to enjoy going about digging up the next history-mystery.

References

_Pioneering in Territorial Silver City; H.B. Ailman's Recollections of Silver City and the Southwest, 1871-1992_ , by Henry B. Ailman, edited and annotated by Helen J. Lundwall, University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque, 1983.

_Final Report of Investigations among the Indians of the Southwestern United States, Carried on Mainly in the Years from 1880 to 1885_ by Adolph F. Bandelier, published by the Archaeological Institute in two parts, Part I in 1890 and Part II in 1892.

_Black Range Tales_ by James A. McKenna, The Rio Grande Press, Inc., Glorietta, NM, first published in 1936, Third Printing, 1971.

_Gila Cliff Dwellings; An Administrative History_ by Peter Russell, Southwest Cultural Resources Center, Professional Papers No. 48, Southwest Region Division of History, Santa Fe, NM, 1992.

"Why Go Abroad? Walking Among the Cavemen," Sunset 30 (February 13, 1913):156-164, by Agnes C. Laut, as recorded in _Bulletin of the Pan American Union, Volume 36_, Congressional edition, Volume 6475 of 1913. Published in San Francisco.

_United States National Museum Bulletin 87_, "Culture of the Ancient Pueblos of the Upper Gila River, Regions New Mexico and Arizona," Second Museum-Gates Expedition, by Walter Hough, Curator Division of Ethnology, United States National Museum, Washington, Government Printing Office, 1914.

Border Culture Bordering Subculture...

Not all crossings of the international border are illegal or alien or aggressive.

On the eve of the commemoration of Pancho Villa's raid on Columbus, NM (March 9, 1916), Agapi and I drove down to observe the 15th Cabalgata Binacional. Since 1999, this event has been held to celebrate continuing goodwill between Mexico and the US. (Mexico, by the way, is also an Estados Unidos...)

A cabalgata is a mass procession or parade of horses and riders, held not for display as much as participation. It is the Spanish derivation of the word "cavalcade." 

This 9-day ride starts in Mexico at the Hacienda San Jeronimo in the town of Bachiniva. where Villa is said to have planned the raid on Columbus. Up to 300 riders join the cabalgata for short stretches, but only 100 riders have permits to cross the border at Palomas. They meet up with riders from the US and all proceed to the central plaza of Columbus.

Several hundred people were there to greet the riders the day we attended. Booths had been set up to sell hand-made gorditas, burritos, tamales, tacos, candy apples, etc. Kids could ride on a mechanical bull or shush down an inflatable slide. Beer was available for adult recreation. A Deming-based Mariachi band played most of the time we were there. We had seen and heard them before at the Tamal Festival in Silver City and once in the foyer of Peppers supermarket in Deming, evidently raising money to tour. 

We were hoping to see the little girls in costume perform that couldn't help but dance to the Mariachi music. But the day was windy and cold, and cold because it was windy. It even rained a little. Agapi had already used up two sets of batteries taking pictures. She also recorded the music and crowd noises on her DAT, but because of the wind the recording wasn't successful. 

On the way out of town, we stopped at the City of the Sun.

--

Located just north of Columbus, this intentional community has been around since 1974. Its roots go back to Sologa, Inc., a non-profit established in 1959 in Melbourne, Florida. Sologa was the name of a being channeled by Grace Taylor, co-founder with her husband Wayne of Christ's Church and School of Wisdom which found a new home in New Mexico in 1968. The property is 159 acres and features more than 50 structures.

Apparently, City of the Sun has long outgrown its cult reputation. Meditations on the Vortex of Light and divine energies of the Central Sun apparently have been replaced by the everyday concerns of survival and sustainability.

As we sat in our car before the entrance to the community, with its sign forbidding un-permitted entry, a woman drove up in a station wagon and offered her help. Gracie, from California originally, had been a resident now for four years. She thought, when she first came here, that it would more of a community, with potlucks and all, but has seen it only deteriorating since. Most of the residents are much older than she (in her 50s) and unable to do much to improve or maintain the infrastructure. For various reasons, according to Gracie, the people are mostly bitter and anti-social as well. 

We asked if she knew Verlie. She did. We had met 91-year-old Verlie during the community meal for El Dia del Accion de Gracias (Thanksgiving Day) at the United Methodist Church on Buckeye Street in Deming. Agapi and I had volunteered to help prep and serve mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and turkey, etc. to the more than 300 people who attended. Verlie, a lively redhead (!) who enjoys dancing, told us of her connection to City of the Sun, laughingly saying, "I guess now I've found my Kingdom of the Sun." 

We thought she was only speaking metaphorically about her new-found Methodist faith, until one day we noticed that the housing complex across the street from the church was called Kingdom of the Sun. (!)

Gracie told us where we could find Verlie's cottage to which that pioneer communitarian still comes to retreat from time to time. She also told us that if anyone should stop us while we were touring the property to say "Gracie says it's okay."

So, we cruised Rainbow Lane, Universal Way, and similarly named thoroughfares, for awhile gawking and taking pictures (with what little battery power we had) of the unique and other-worldly structures there. A number are constructed with paper-crete bricks and, according to available literature, quite a few are essentially off-the-grid. 

And... at one time at least, the folks here had the energy be creative as well.

Avian Neighbors...

All over our farmed desert, scattered green plants are pushing up without the benefit of hardly any rain this winter. Cottonwood are leafing out. Yucca are bulging with new clownish heads of still crew-cut leaves. Wild arugula, that opportunist, ranges along ditches and underground irrigation lines. In our back yard, the peach blossoms on the tree in the backyard have blown out and the fruit are already the size of peas. Must be spring in Deming.

Along with spring comes bird-song, and plenty of birds, most of whom have been with us all winter.

White-Winged Doves, pale-bellied, larger and fatter than Mourning Doves, make a big hoo-hooing all day around the house and on the electric wires along the lane. One of them sits on a post supporting the open-weave roof above the rear patio. She has been nesting for a couple of weeks at least, as still as if made of ceramic.

Other doves spoon in the pine trees. 

Gambel’s Quail daily skitter across in front of the car as we pull up the drive of the house at dusk and early morning. Too close, and some go aloft sailing into the mesquite bushes. One or two panic and skitter the other way, reverse direction again, and then dive into the dry gramma grasses. 

One day, we came across one one dashing across Monte Vista Road in that vertically-held position of the species. Suddenly it tripped at the edge of the ditch and fell flat on its beak!

 

Never seen anything like that from a bird.

Crows, of course, and in such multitudinous murders, glean pecans after the harvests out on Columbus Road, the road to Mexico. 

About twice the size of a crow, an occasional Raven makes a noise up in the cottonwood trees beside the house. I had heard the call before, but was unable to place it with any bird in view. 

Then it appeared and its identity was unmistakable -- large, blue-black, and it was voicing the Latvian name for raven: kraukli(s). 

Kr-auk-k-li. An interesting tonal quality to it hard to imitate with this human larynx. Kr-auk-k-li.

Cool.

 

Wrens galore, a few nesting in the lanterns on the front verandah. An occasional house finch with red throat and head. The blackbird with the freakishly long tail we saw feasting on spilled dog kibble in the Wal Mart parking lot: a Boat-Tailed Grackle.

Our friendliest or at least most fearless guy is the Curve-Billed Thrasher. About the only bird that feeds on the seed eggs we've hung in the pine tree outside the kitchen window. Drinks from the water dish. Fixes his red-orange eye on us while we are washing dishes by the window.

We do not have a picture of him, unfortunately, but we do of another avian neighbor...

This bird preys on brown people migrating to find better habitat. It has no brain of its own, but is operated remotely from a station on Hermanas Road, half-way to the border with Mexico. Here it is in its nest.

Mining the Past...

We drove a wide loop through Old Mesilla, Las Cruces, and Hatch ("World's Chile Capital") to arrive eventually and impulsively at Lake Valley, a silver mining town in the 1880s that is now a ghost town on BLM-managed land. It is located on NM 27, 13 miles North from the one-house hamlet of Nutt on NM 26, also known locally as "Hatch Highway."

Boom to bust and now dust...

We turned off on a dusty exit just as the range land ends and the hills begin. From Deming directly the ghost town is a drive of about 35 miles. Eleven structures survive in a dilapidated state from the town's heyday beginning around 1883 and ending around 1895: a few residences, a school house (that later became a saloon and even later a gas station), a chapel, a general store, a tipple, a depot, a wall, and not much more.

The Bridal Chamber...

Close to 3.5 million ounces of silver were taken from the mine that was the reason for the town. Called the "Bridal Chamber," it was an unusually compact resource of about 9 feet wide by 40 feet long, with the highest concentration of silver per ton of ore around. One tongue-in-cheek source in 1884 said the silver could be melted off the walls with a candle.

Poet Walt Whitman was an investor in the mine with 200 shares. The mine owner, Whitaker Wright, continued selling shares long after the mine had stopped producing silver, and along with others who had been duped, Whitman lost his shirt. Wright, when arrested and brought to trial in England, dramatically swallowed cyanide in the courtroom rather than go to prison.

Cool, huh?

Why go to a ghost town? It has to do with the quiet of the place after so much hustle and bustle during its economic boom. To do also, I think, with seeking a past to the present which at times makes no sense. For me personally, it has to do with the sculptural qualities of decay and breakage one finds in ghost towns, and a fascination with anything humans have abandoned and nature has reclaimed.

Riffing on the Yucca...

Contemporaneous readers of the March 1, 1883 issue of "Silver City Enterprise"were presented with this intriguing suggestion:

Who knows but what soap weed will prove one of the principal sources of wealth in New Mexico.

To date, however, no known major commercial enterprise is devoted to exploiting this resource. Nor is it apparent that anyone of that time followed up on this proposal, either. Yet, yucca elata, known also as soapweed, soaptree, and palmilla (little palm), is fairly ubiquitous in New Mexico. Where mesquite does not dominate, it grows in nearly every uncultivated area of the desert. That may be why it is also the state flower.

Yet, Native Americans once upon a time did find it useful economically.

The Mimbres and Apaches used the fiber from the leaves for dental floss and to make rope, baskets, mats, sandals, belts, and other cloth. The Mimbres and Mogollón both chewed the ends of leaves to make paintbrushes for decorating their pottery. The immature seed pods provided an occasional food and the trunk and roots provided soap and shampoo for all native groups. Immediately after the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, yucca suds were employed in ritual cleansing -- to wash away the spiritual pollution of over 100 years of missionary conversions. 

In our day, enlightened homeowners allow the yucca to grow as landscaping. Under their care, these grow fuller and fatter than in the wild. Another non-native use was instituted by the local Bohemian (Czech) community of Deming in the 1950s. They used stripped-down yucca flower stalks in smoking klobase, a type of sausage, during their annual fundraiser for a local church. Over 5,000 sausages would be hung inside the smokehouse on these sticks. They did not affect the taste, and could be reused for 15-20 years.

The soaptree exhibits several erratic and eccentric growth patterns. One desert rhapsodizer I've read refers to its growth as "irresponsible" (jokingly I assume). They can grow single trunk, multi-trunk, singly, in clumps, etc. A number of yucca plants in our area have reminded me and Agapi of animals and human figures. Here are pics of our recent finds:

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Llama, where's your mama?

Remember Cousin Itt?

Towering Tall Man.

Sasquatch, Escaping!

Here's one that Agapi espied on the road up to Silver City. It combines a couple of nearly dead branches of a plant to make one unique, maybe irresponsible, individual.

Warrior, with Weaponry.

Here's a yucca you can't bring home to mutha:

Ah, Super Freak... Super Freak...

Okay, it's been shopped. But what makes it freaky is that leaves are growing at the top of the flower stalk. That shouldn't be. I thought it was going to be a one-of-a-kind find, but we recently came across two other plants with the same sporting tendency.

My Close-up... Please.

Well, so much for pareidolia (seeing things in things). Until next time...