The Stop Wildcat Mining sign reminded me to do what I mean to do every time I drive down to Farmington on CO 140 (turns into NM 170), and that is take pictures. I have a photo series in mind and keep thinking I could mount them at Steaming Bean and sell them for 50.00 a piece...so many signs, mostly, on a highway that starts more or less at the Wildcat Sign and goes to intersection with - what? 666? What is the number? -- anyway, it t-bones into the highway that either goes to Shiprock (W) or Farmington (E). I have been driving twice a week and am struck by a kind of withered, beautiful, sere humanity. Lately it is John McCain signs on any land that speaks of even modest wealth, and these are juxtaposed next to poverty flat trailer homes occupied by Navajos who put no signs out. Will they vote Obama? Do they even care to, given their history with the US government?
I have seen coyotes cross the highway at the state line several times, skinwalker ghosts not far from where Earl Morris dug up human bones from the 13th century, stewed in ollas in a couple of rock shelters in the cliffs there...two owls nearly ran into my car in search of prey after a hard thunderstorm. It was dusk, almost dark, and I wondered if the water had filled up the rodent holes so that they all flooded out, owl bait...skunks lose out big time with cars...two baby raccoons shot back their glittery eyes at the Breen bridge. I am acutely aware of the animal world on these drives, and our slaughter of them in the missiles we call our cars.
No comments:
Post a Comment