The Last Summer
by Sharon Haney
“ I wonder what that is ?” my husband said as I walked up beside him . He stood in our screened porch gazing over the back acres of desert grass , cactus , and a few struggling fruit trees we planted earlier in the year with hope of enjoying future home-grown apple pies .
“ It looks like a large breed of skunk or a badger ,” I replied , watching a powerful lowslung animal make its way toward the green stripe of weeds indicating the septic leach field that stood out against the pale beige of brittle grasses . It ambled toward the taller dried grasses that swayed in the arid desert winds , beckoning the next field fire . Our area has seen summer fires before and field fires are now on the thoughts of many residents . There has been no measurable rain in the Chihuahuan Desert for two years ; everything and everyone is suffering . Tree leaves , once a splendid green , now turn yellow , shrivel and drop from their branches . The wildfire threat is high , and it is difficult for the deer , javelinas , mountain cats , aoudads , and cattle to find food and water . Wildlife , normally secluded in the mountains , have descended to the foothills in order to quench their thirst and find sustenance .
Our prickly pear cactus tunas , standing tall in a row along sun-facing edges of their host paddles , were plump , garnet in color , juicy and ripe for picking when one morning , mysteriously , they vanished . Every single cactus had been plucked clean of its fruit overnight — not one trace of a stray tuna lay anywhere on our five acres . I immediately knew we had been targeted by pillaging wildlife . It is astonishing that an animal can eat tunas without its lips and tongue becoming inflamed with glochids . I wonder which animal enjoyed our tunas ?
Honestly , I was relieved that there were no tunas to harvest . August is a sultry month , with many days spent in the kitchen working through bushels of tunas making prickly pear juice , candy , and jelly . The following days are spent pulling needle-like glochids out of my fingers and hands with the assistance of tweezers and a magnifying glass . Even though I wear layers of work gloves and use a pair of long tongs to pick the tunas , somehow , during the preparation process , inevitably minute tuna reminders
are stuck in my skin . With the first sip of a pink prickly pear margarita , or a taste of jellied toast , the painful memories disappear . I will miss cactus candy and jelly this summer . August has been a reprieve from the kitchen , a good thing since our air conditioning system stopped working two weeks ago .
I see the porch thermometer approaching 90 degrees in the shade . Summertime desert temperatures can be in the triple digits but that doesn ’ t happen often . This summer is an exception . Our porch thermometer has become our barometer for when to keep the doors and windows open and when to close them to the desert ’ s hot breath . We tried to live these past two weeks like the Italians — closing the windows and curtains during the heat of the day to trap in what coolness we can and opening everything up in the evening to capture any available bracing breezes . Still , our over-heated bodies stick to the furniture and our home is so dusty we write notes to each other on horizontal surfaces with our fingers . This summer we are saving paper .
During any other summer , we would have escaped for an occasional swim at Balmorhea State Park or taken the Casita travel trailer with its icy air conditioning to a campsite for a few days of respite . The Balmorhea pool , built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s , is one-of-akind with concrete walls but with a natural lake floor in the deepest portion . Even though it has been recently rebuilt it is closed due to the threat of the Covid-19 virus . During past sweltering summers Balmorhea was our wet refuge from the incessant and overwhelming heat . Sometimes we went instead to the St . George pool in Marfa , also closed this summer , where we claimed a cabana , dipped into the cerulean water , and ordered drinks from the poolside bar . We have no choice now but to stay at home and endure . There is no respite anywhere .
I watch the badger make his way across the leach field — his powerful , broad skull , his stout , muscular legs and the dark layers of fur protruding from beneath a thatch of light-colored back hair , a perfect match to the shades displayed by our parched grasses . I have never seen a badger in the
26 Cenizo Spring 2021