Monthly Archives: September 2013
This is part of what’s left of the old church at the St. Rose of Lima cemetery; a marker just inside the fence says the cemetery was established in the early 1800s, and was “replaced to its current location” in 1907. I don’t know how long the church has been without a roof. Or a floor. Or windows. But it’s still standing, maybe out of habit as much as anything else.
This is another example of the way a building can eventually devolve into just its textures – and this one’s got plenty of textures, with the weather-rough wood, the initialed plaster, the stones.
And it even has a flower, tucked into a break in the plaster underneath the window.
Santa Rosa, New Mexico
Meanwhile, back in Santa Rosa, New Mexico, this place slowly falls apart.
It’s got a lot of company: there are many buildings in town that have seen better days. But you know me: I love places like this. I like the way they fall apart, the way someone tries – without success – to stop the decay, the way even the patched parts start to fall apart, too. I love the textures of the different building materials. And the way the weeds grow up, seeming to guard whatever’s still inside.
And, I love the mystery of the two front doors.
(My weekend was a WordPress weekend. I met up with blogger Donna Catterick in Santa Rosa and we spent Saturday and part of Sunday taking pictures. And, also had a couple of great phone conversations with Ehpem and Brett Erickson. What a weird thing, blogging!)
Santa Rosa, New Mexico
I don’t know what infraction of the Door Rules this door broke, but it was evidently something pretty serious for it to end up being labeled “bad.”
There are a number of wrongs it could have committed: it slammed shut on someone’s hand; it left itself unlocked overnight; it has a hinge that squeaks. But, I think it’s probably the sign for Coors Light that got it into trouble.
One of my favorite authors is William Least Heat-Moon; he ends his essay on beer, “A glass of handmade,” by quoting his traveling companion, the Venerable Tashmoo, who takes a hearty swallow of a beer with no flavor and says, “Did I miss my mouth?”
I want to think that perhaps the Venerable Tashmoo had something to do with the designation on this door….
Chamberino, New Mexico
But for all that big talk yesterday about my urban travels, here we are in Fort Davis (population 1,250).
I was in Fort Davis in August and I checked out every street in town* to see what I could see. I saw dogs. A lot of dogs. They all seemed to be unhappy that I was there, and it made me nervous. (Dogs always make me nervous. Cats? Never.) But that’s neither here nor there.
In addition to unhappy dogs, I saw this gem of a place, with its appliance graveyard, melting adobe house, and (this is for you, Ehpem) some very nice corrugated metal.
Fort Davis, Texas
*It didn’t take all that long. There aren’t many streets.
I can understand why anyone who stops by here on a regular basis might think the largest town I’ve ever been to is Muleshoe, Texas (population 5,217), but I have actually gone to some larger towns. Like Brownfield – population 9,675. Or Levelland – population 13,517. Or Sweetwater – population 10,447.
And this one time? I went to Dallas.
Full disclosure #1: If you think I chose the town examples because their names are funny and/or descriptive, you are correct.
Full disclosure #2: I’ve actually been to Dallas more than just the one time.