Tagging Along with An Oil Man

Pipe rack and shale shaker surrounded by flowers and a cotton field.

Red-tailed Hawk. Other prevalent birds were Meadowlarks, Horned Larks, Cowbirds, and Sparrows. Salt disposal.

Planting cotton. From the back seat of a truck that stays at the Post Airport.

Walking with a tape measure to find the next location. No pounding.Electrified wellhead.Workover rig.

With the Naked Eye

The flowers along Highway 82 enchanted me so much that I enjoyed looking at them with no aid except my glasses; I held my camera on my lap while I observed the colors along the highway. Carrie placed sunflowers on her tables for us, and off her porch I took a few photographs of flowers and fresh deer tracks.

"Naked is better," noted My Mr. Mallory, a quiet nudist, off subject and deep in thought.

Chasing Down Emil

Above I show an image of an oil painting of Papa Herman by his son, Emil. I spent most of the day driving from home to home photographing paintings by Emil.

Frank Kell and his wife at the Museum of North Texas Archives. I took another image of two paintings, side by side, of the Kells, in the alcove just off the Grand Ballroom of the Kemp Center for the Arts.

Emil painted landscapes, portraits, and some animals. Of the fifteen to twenty paintings I saw today, Roy Rogers struck me as one of several of his sweetest works.

Worms for the Wren

A rescued Bewick's Wren opens wide for a meal worm. Wrens do not do well in captivity, but this one has survived at the Wild Bird Rescue Center since its nestling days. Any day now the wren will fly to live a normal life in the wild.

Admiring the Grand in Electra

"You one of 'em cross-country bikers?"
I said, no, not me, then removed my helmet. He stared at me for a while, then said, "There's one of 'em cross-country bikers left New York for Los Angeles. S'posed to be here today. You ain't him. You're a girl."
My motorcycle is an F 650 GS with Touratech panniers; it's the bike used by motorcyclists to cross the African continent, which is why he felt impelled to ask me that question. If I had ridden a Harley to Electra, he would have known with a glance I am "'round these parts." I thought of saying, "and you're a boy," but I like to get along with folks, especially hopelessly nice folks like this fellow.
I asked him if I could have his photo in front of the Grand. After the photo, I learned more about him: He's assisted in the renovation of the Grand for many years -- decades. As a proponent of history, I felt a kinship with him. I asked him about fundraising, and he said they have eighty-five thousand dollars available that they are using to renovate the floors in wood. In addition, they'll need a couple million to bring the Grand to its former grandeur. (Pardon the rhyme.) The Grand was built in 1919, and was scheduled for its opening in 1920, which was interrupted by a snow storm, unusual for these parts of the United States. He asked me to send him a copy of the WFLAR, so I will, gladly, with a call for submissions. He sped away in his scooter.
One link to the Electra Grand Theatre:
http://www.texasescapes.com/Texas_architecture/Driveby_architecture/Electra_Texas/Grand_Theatre.htm

For Motorcyclists to Follow Bliss

My friend was big, as big as a skyscraper.
His personality was big, as big as the world.
His eyes were hazel and his hair seemed
like a hasty growth of long Pampas grass
kept short as a microbe during his rides.
His legs were as long as Phelps’ in 08
and he’d swing one over his motorcycle
then place both feet solidly on the ground
like magnets on a steel plate that slowly
detached when he turned the throttle
speeding off knowing the world was not
big enough for a man as large as he was.

Feeding Cattle

In the Texas Panhandle, a young cowboy feeds cattle from a carriage pulled by a team of mules.

Milestone

I donated a 63 Thunderbird for scholarships at my alma mater. Acreage available in my garage now occupied by My Mr. Mallory's 67 Chrysler.

On the Way to Big Bend

Pinyon Jay and Wood Rat in Big Bend

In the fall, the Pinyon Jay will migrate to the Big Bend area, heading straight for the Pinyon Pine. The Jay can extract with its beak the nuts of the Pinyon and hold as many as twenty-five nuts in his diverticulum, or esophageal pouch. If a Jay sees any more nuts in the cone, he will try to stuff his beak with as many as he can before flying away to the nearest mountain. On the mountain, at the base of a large tree, generally a Ponderosa Pine, and on the south side, a jay will accumulate a pile of nuts, most of which he will eat throughout the winter. In the meantime, sentinel Pinyon Jays remain on the mountain keeping watch over the nuts; if an intruder seeks to steal the nuts, the jays will squawk an alert for their fellow birds, who will all come up from gathering nuts, fly to each pile and relocate the nuts to another mountain.
The process of gathering nuts precedes the mating ritual of the Pinyon Jay. While the females stand by, a male Pinyon Jay will approach them, raise his head as high as he can – in an attempt to make himself look tall and handsome – then “dance” before them. The females pretend to ignore him while he performs for them; at a determined point, the male will thump the ground with the tips of his wings, then rush toward one of the females, and then place before her a pinion nut that he has held in his diverticulum during the pre-mating ritual. After placing the nut before her, he walks away, and in a seemingly nonchalant way, casting side-long glances in her direction, he will wait to see if she takes the nut, or not. If she does not, he returns to her, picks up his Pinyon nut, and begins the dance again, and then places his nut before another female. If she does take it, she holds the nut in her diverticulum while together they fly up into the mountain to build their nest. When the eggs hatch, usually four nestlings per couple, the female will feed them the pine nut that the male presented to her after his dance. Perhaps because the Pinyon Jays focus on the entire group, each year, each jay has a different mate; they will gather nuts and catch insects for the entire community, flying from nest to nest feeding every one of their fellow jays.

The Wood Rat has a white belly and throat, and a fluffy tail similar to a squirrel. They gather sticks, place them at the foot of a tree, and build a nest within the structure, called a midden. Inside, the middens have different chambers, several containing pine nuts and one used for nesting, and all of which the Wood Rats have connected by tunnels. Interestingly, the Wood Rat has an eye for objects of beauty, or of unusual shapes, such as small granite or semi-precious stones, such as turquoise, and arrowheads made of quartz, or potsherds. As they gather nuts, they gather these objects of beauty or interest and carry them home. At times, they will bury nuts in order to have room to carry their newly found objects. At home, the Wood Rat will place the objects upon the walls of the tunnels and the nesting chamber. Archaeologists enjoy digging up Wood Rats’ homes, some dating 10,000 years, to find interesting objects.

I'll See You in Kathmandu.

These fellows waited for a glimpse of the child goddess. She did peer outside her window for a few seconds.

Freak Street was famous for hippies to spend their time (and three dollars per day) during the sixties.


Lighting candles before an image of Shiva, which I found weird and exotic.

Sunset descended upon us too soon.

Agra, Mind Agra

As one walks through the gate, the Taj Mahal appears in the distance.

Photos cannot seem to convey the magnificence of the sight of the Taj Mahal.

Inside the Taj Mahal, marble is decorated with semi-precious stones. The process is time-consuming and requires a life-long commitment to the skills of sculpting by several artists, one to shape the semi-precious stones, and one to draw the figures and sculpt the marble.

Hemender shines a flashlight to show the translucence of the semi-precious stone inlaid in the Markana marble.

Khajuraho, Babe!

One of the exquisite temples built by the Chandela Rajputs between the ninth and eleventh centuries C.E.

The attendant holds a candle behind the head of Vishnu. The effect seems awesome, especially to worshippers of the past.

Images from the inside of the temple of Vishnu.


Graffiti on the plank near the Lakshmi Temple. Looks fairly recent, in terms of centuries.

Images from the kama sutra.

A woman makes the brushes used as part of the renovations of the temple stones. It is now prohibited to replace images, for in one hundred years visitors will not know the difference between 21 C renovations from the original sculptures.

Gnome's Palace Life: Chapter One, The Sniffles

Karl stated facetiously that it is now a tradition for one of his fellow travelers to remain at the Rambagh Palace while recovering from illness. Corky was here a few years ago with bronchitis, and now I am here this week with a severe cold. I say that if one travels frequently enough, one is bound to fall ill somewhere in the world; so here I am, enduring my turn in the barrel at the Rambagh Palace.

A lovely doctor, Archana Sogani, the palace doctor, came to see me yesterday and today, and will return tomorrow morning before I leave for Agra.

At the Rambagh Palace, every guest has a personal butler. I have two, depending on the clock: Pradeep works during the day, and Chetan works in the evenings. It was Chetan who arranged for me to have black tea with lemon and ginger, good for colds, and prepared the same way his mother made for him whenever he caught a cold.

I might become accustomed to palace life. I can pour my own tea, and mix honey in it on my own, but I sit patiently while my butler pours it for me, because that’s what he wants to do, that’s what he was trained to do, and that’s part of the experience of staying at a palace hotel. Thoughts of having my own butler at home have appeared roaming around in my mind, a butler who will bring me tea, then, hold his palms together, and, bowing, leave the room walking backwards.

Below, a member of the staff at the Rambagh Palace in Jaipur keeps watch over the inner garden. Whenever a bird lights upon the benches or the fountain, he pounds the cloth with a stick. The sound carries throughout the inner garden to my room.

He walks around the gardens for most of his day. His smile is wide when a guest waves at him.

Would he have pounded his cloth to frighten the peacocks? Below, a female jumps over the wall of the Oriental Gardens at the Rambagh Palace, too shy for my camera lens.

Music and Smiles

Nancy, one of my dearest travel companions, has verbalized an observation for me: The people in India seem not only friendly, but happy, as well. In the old bazaar under the clock tower in Jodhpur, countless small merchants sell their wares and spices, every one of them smiling. They are quick to respond to my waves to them. These people at the old bazaar are the real-life, day-to-day working people who face the realities of life in ways I would not know in any way. They sit most of the day by their property, for example, bracelets or spices, and wait for a buyer. When one does appear, the bargaining begins. At the end of the day, a great many bracelets or spices are packed tightly and carried away. Every once in a while did I see a vendor sitting next to her spread with fewer items at the end of the day. The men in the photo below exemplify part of life in India: They sit around a fire by the side of the street to warm themselves -- and they wave at a passing tourist, smiling.

At the Meherangarh Fort, I noticed the commercialized smiles on the faces of the guards and other staff members; if not for my previous experience with smiling faces, I would not be able to know that behind the trained smiles are people who will feel genuine about feeling friendly at any time, not only when called upon by their job to smile at a tourist.

There were at the Meherrangarh Fort and the Jaswant Thada, musicians who played while small children danced. Perhaps aged four, a little boy danced crudely, without smiling at all, squinting in the hazy sun, following the instructions his father spoke from behind his dilruba (fiddle) as he played. He instructed the boy to turn, to raise his arms, and then to hold out his hand for money from the people watching. At the Jaswant Thada, a young woman, scantly past pubescence, danced with vigor while her father played and her little brother danced. Her little brother danced and followed her direction, every one similar to the direction given to the younger boy at the Meherangarh Fort. Closer to the monument, another boy, much older than the previous two, about ten years old, beat the drum while he sang. Whenever tourists approached, his beat began and his voice carried throughout the grounds. Alone, he did not seem to need instruction, and he sang loudly, clearly, apparently well trained to know when he could rest his hands and voice, and when he should begin his music to entertain the tourists. He garnered many tips, in comparison to the other musicians, during the short time I watched.


We came upon four men who appeared to be soldiers at the fort. They sat crossed-legged in a recessed wall, three with shenai (flutes), and one with drums. In contrast to the other musicians, these men seemed to have made an impromptu decision to find their instruments, sit in the recession of the wall, and jam.
Some of the musicians' shoes are pictured below.