wild before , so I wonder where he lives and whether he is the culprit constantly digging into the roots of our lonely shade tree . I sparsely water all the trees every week or two to nudge them along in their struggle for survival . I wonder if their roots , a source of food , are also a source of water for animals living on our property or passing through our unfenced acres . I picture the badger using his brawny , short legs and strong claws to move the heavy stones we placed around the perimeter of our shade tree ’ s trunk as a deterrent to root diggers .
Everyone and everything need water this summer . I dream of the day when we are blessed again with a deluge of rain . I also dream of immersing my body in the deep , spring-fed waters of the Balmorhea pool . How lucky those annoying little fish are , being left alone this summer to enjoy their underwater world without the intrusion of swimmers , drifting on pool floats or testing their new scuba diving gear . No wonder they nip irritatingly at invading bodies .
I wonder if our badger is a solitary creature , male or female , or whether he or she has a sett somewhere with a clan of relatives and babies . Our children have left the nest and I miss seeing them . We will see nothing of our family for many more months . There is no substitute for the warmth and realness of a solid hug , pat on the back , or kiss on the cheek . Living in a remote desert area we have become accustomed to the lack of visitors , relying upon neighbors and friends for social interaction and ourselves for mental clarity and daily goal setting , which is what propels us through life during these lonesome summer days .
When the complete country lockdown began in the spring , my husband built an enclosed garden shrouded with strong wire mesh to discourage theft by our local wildlife . It is impenetrable and inescapable , like the Covid-19 lockdown . Homegrown , sun-ripened tomatoes eaten with salt like an apple remind me of my childhood summers . I wish for simpler times . The efficiency and immediacy of this viral shutdown brings contemplation of self-sufficiency and our garden was a big step towards self-reliance ; but it is a ways from being fully off the grid . We , unlike the oblivious badger living his life as his ancestors before him did , are living in a different world than the one we woke up to a few months ago .
Our little Casita travel trailer , vacationing on blocks , is a solid reminder that we are now rooted to our miniscule portion of the world . No one is going anywhere for a long time , even after the restrictions are lifted . Making a mental list of travel destinations is now a shell game of sorts , with parks and cities moving on and off my speculative travel menu . My spirit aches to roam the hills of Caprock Canyons State Park like its resident herd of bison , unrestrained and at liberty to wander far and wide during the day , much like our stalwart badger .
The sky has now become our personal outdoor theater . We spend a lot of nighttime sitting on our gabion-walled patio beneath the stars watching the heavens for the space station to appear overhead or for satellites moving across the sky . We sometimes spend hours sprawled out on our lounge chairs , drinks in hand , gazing upwards into the same night sky I envision the buffalo roaming beneath . Earlier this summer we watched the comet Neowise streak along the dark horizon , always on schedule . It was beautiful and bright seen by the naked eye but even more astonishingly brilliant when viewed through binoculars . We watched it every evening until it was visible no more . When it was gone , I couldn ’ t help but wonder what our world will be like when Neowise once again makes its appearance some 7,000 year from now . Will bison roam earthly meadows and badgers slink through underbrush ?
Each morning I get up , dress , and attempt to create art in one form or another . It ’ s my way of feeling normal during this summer of abnormality . Sometimes , before the heat of the day sets in , I drive into town to work on a mural being painted on the side of a twostory building along one of the alleyways . Our little town , not far from the Mexican border , has numerous colorful murals , so many that the visitor center hands out maps to tourists with their locations . This new mural ’ s theme is ‘ postcards from the desert ’ and what started out as my vision of a local scene morphed into an upright jackrabbit on a two-cent postage stamp with a desert landscape background . My painting plans consistently change between inception and
culmination and I am intrigued , hopeful , and often surprised to see the result of my efforts when I don ’ t know for certain what the result will be . I hold my breath as I approach the finish . I contemplate adding a little badger into the desert background , moving steadily through the camouflaging grass toward his destination and not my prickly pear tunas .
Occasionally , when painting outdoors on the mural , people wander through the alley , stop to talk , inquire about the artwork and things to do in the area , then wish you the best and meander away . I enjoy these delightful diversions and thieving a piece of banned un-masked social interaction right there directly beneath the noses of the town ’ s commandants . Even the smallest , most insignificant protest thrills me .
One of our favorite reality shows , “ Alone ,” helicopters people , along with their allotted 10 survival items , into separate areas of the vast northern Canadian wilderness . They are expected to build themselves a shelter and survive up to 100 days living alone in arctic temperatures . Even when they hunt and fish successfully , the participants never have an abundance of food . One recent contestant survived off a slain muskox for most of his time and from him we learned that you could use every part ; where the needed fat can be found , and that you can eat the stomach contents of any cud-chewing animal because it has already broken down the grass , rendering it edible for humans . Even with spices these diets do not appeal to me but I am storing away survival tips in case our food supply chain breaks in this or the next pandemic . The winner of the onemillion-dollar prize was a self-proclaimed ‘ loner ’— he previously lived secluded in the woods , shunning familial contact . After time for introspection , he emerged from “ Alone ” determined to revive his family connections .
Feeling much the same , I trudge through these tortuous summer days , hopes high that this pandemic will soon release us from its deathlike grasp .
Background image : Cactus by Sharon Haney
Cenizo Spring 2021
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