Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Vermont anymore

 Going to bed, listening to coyotes and the constant humming of oil/gas extraction nearby.  The lights of Mexican towns glitter across the reservoir.  What a contrast to Vermont — although we’ve had a couple of rainy days, the prickly pear and yucca cactus and many other thorny plants let us know we are in deep Texas.

Thursday we went down to the Roma library to use their wifi connection.  The room was abuzz in Spanish, making it feel like we were across the border – just a mile away.  Later, at a Walmart in Rio Grande City, we were about the only two anglos out of the hundreds of patrons.  No big deal – and we marvel, as we do in Montreal, of the adroit switching from language to language.  Mary overheard a cellphone discussion by the person next in line who interrupted a steady chatter of Spanish to say, “and you got the shrimp, right?” then switching right back to Spanish.

Yesterday, while out on a walk with Penny, four javelinas sauntered across the road in a line, starting from momma to the youngest.  Then a sharp-shinned hawk wove through the thickets in search of a bird to eat.  And hundreds of grackles and red-winged blackbirds (pests here right now) are hopefully thinking about heading north.

We awoke to a screech owl, cardinals, and mockingbirds.  The forecast today is for mid-seventies.  We can only imagine what August must be like down here.  It’s a foreign land in many ways to us native Vermonters.

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