Days 23 to 26 Around Gila New Mexico

We take a break from driving and spend some time walking around the desert and visiting people. The Morning Glory flowers have appeared in profusion since we took our trip to Indiana. Mexican Poppies splash Buttercup-gold among the rocks. Up close I see that they have throats of deeper orange-gold. One Indian Paintbrush suddenly flowers overnight, outside The Tortoise, where we are sleeping. The Tortoise is a prefabricated hexagonal room that Gurnie built for his lady. It has a very special feel to it. Outside The Tortoise stands The Un-named One. He's on an alter that is positioned so that the CD disc around His head catches the sunlight, capturing red, green, or gold fire depending on the time of day and the season of the year. We pose beside Him, Gurnie with a lace tablecloth over his head, and remember our wedding day.
I notice big shiny black bees. I saw my first Bumble Bee at Truth or Consequences. Big furry yellow and black stripped bees like the ones in children's story books. These Gila bees are all black. They carry on aerial dog-fights with each other, rather in the way Humming Birds do. Humming Birds are nasty little creatures to each other. As an extra defense mid-air sword fights are possible for Humming Birds. Of course if you are a Humming Bird you need a whole patch of flowers for yourself, just to fuel your little body. How to explain the behavior of Turkey Vultures then? They are very big birds without the talons of raptors, so they are dependant on road kills and other animal accidents. Of course their life style is much more laid back than that of Humming Birds. Turkey Vultures are cruel and sad mistake. From a distance they are graceful, beautiful birds with glossy black and white wings. Up close you see their boiled-chook heads, all wrinkled, featherless and red. How sad! How unnecessarily cruel!   They seem such gentle creatures. I watch a group of Turkey Vultures dining on a very small furry body beside the road. They stand around the meal in a circle and every now and then one moves forward and takes a tiny morsel for itself. It nods apologetically to its friends and moves back into the circle. Another takes a turn. I can almost hear them saying, "After you!" "No! Indeed! I couldn't eat another scrap. After you!" On the wire fence several more wait their turn.
Many other birds live around here and many more move in for the Spring and Summer. A pair of Thrashers feed their babies in a neat above the outdoor kitchen. I hope we get to meet the Mockingbirds. They are due any day now. A short encounter with Mockingbirds is preferable. Their day-long performances can drive you crazy apparently. As we do a bit of weeding in the vegetable garden, Gurnie does some very impressive chicken-scratching-in-the-sunshine impressions.
We meet up again with friends we've made on our last visit. Old Bob has us over. He's not old and he's not really called Bob. It's just that he wants to be remembered as "Old Bob" when he dies. He's added more rooms to his stone and straw-bale house since we last saw him. Also there's a fine wooden out-house. Big as a bathroom with a urinal that waters the fruit trees and a composting toilet. Bob's begun on the bathhouse. Bathhouses are on the agenda for many others here. Everybody has ongoing building projects. Many started out in trailers and built rooms as the years went on. Living in modular style is a great way to go especially in the desert. Old Bob is an artist and also a skilled craftsman. His home is a masterpiece. All around are stone figures he has carved. As we talk Old Bob takes loaves of bread out of the oven. We have bread and olives and cheese. Old Bob is vegetarian. He orders chemical-free chicken from the Co-op store for his dog and cat. For Christmas they get a chemical-free turkey.
We take our tea outside in the sunshine. Our conversation flits about in all directions. Old Bob's mind is in constant overdrive and it's exhilarating spending the afternoon with him. Gurnie sings one of the songs he wrote during his Rock period. He's been trying to forget it and nobody here has heard it, although it's found itself a cult following in Australia from Hildebrand's singing of it. We've always liked it. It's interestingly cryptic. Hildebrand doesn't have a guitar with him so he plays mouth-music guitar riffs while Gurnie sings.

They call me Meatball a-grabber, but that is not my name
They call me Meatball a-grabber, but that is not my name
Meatball a-grabber he's a bad back stabber.
He's a mean, mean man, he's a living cadaver.
They call me Meatball a-grabber, but that is not my name....

We leave Old Bob as the light is fading.
There's such a sweetness to the gentle artists of Gila. Next morning we visit another one of them. He's been digging a cave for twenty years. It's more like an inside-out sculpture. There are smooth pink and grey walls with niches and shelves and different levels to the floor. A low tunnel takes you to another doorway. There are sitting places and lying places and places to peep into. Candles light your way. Their light is sometimes soft and steady, sometimes bright and dancing. It's a beautiful work of art. His lady has been waiting a long time for a bath-house but she's an artist too so she understands. The area is cleared and ready. This Summer it will be built. This friend carved the stone "Un-Named One" who smiles benevolently on the rustic alter at Gurnie's place.
For a few days we talk and sing and watch the birds and insects. We're making plans to go see The Valley of Fires. It's on my list as a seldom visited place in New Mexico.