Between Drought and Deluge

“It’s official, Carmel announced to the garden, “Jerry says the drought is over in California. So, look alive!”

Carmel’s garden didn’t ask, nor care, who this Jerry was, but if it did, Carmel was prepared to explain about how the current California Governor, Jerry Brown, knew these things. Instead she pulled the garden cart into the shade of her favorite pine and sat to meditate and continue the conversation.

It’s been a tough few years for both you and me, but once again, we’ve made it through,” she began with the obvious and added one more thought, “although, there were times I thought it would never get any better, yet it did, despite ourselves.”

She sat, drifting in and out of deep silence, interspersed with watery thoughts that sought the path of least resistance. She remembered reading that the human body is at least 60% water. She wondered if it was the same for her trees, flowers, herbs and grasses. She had cut their water in half the last three years, were they frightened as she had been? Trying to survive attack from without in a desert of human misdeeds and cruelties?

No matter. She had her strengths and innate courage, like her garden. Although she had to admit that when the rains came, they came fast and furious, challenging her hold on situational reality.  Not too long ago, she had braved the storms to re-tie the stakes that held their world together. Nothing had toppled or blown away. Instead, the deluge had delivered a welcomed soaking of life and spirit.

*   *   *   

A garden and gardener are lovers–carefully caretaking each other’s needs–fulfilling desires–that they only whisper about. Years of careful management builds a legacy that lasts for many generations. Secrets are hidden in seeds carefully stowed away until the timing is perfect to plant.

The garden and the gardener understand what sustains and what destroys. They work together to build resilience and continuity when challenged by life’s extremes. They forgive mistakes and live on, to trust once again, in the bond they’ve made.  

Carmel hand waters her relationships–time consuming–consequently she has few. When weeds begin to overwhelm the landscape, she pulls at them with a strength that comes to her by will. Yet, what is a flower to one, is a weed to another, and she tries to understand the difference.

Only once did she fail a garden, when after cultivating their relationship for several years, she left it in someone else’s care. When she returned the land had been covered in asphalt and automobiles sat where the raised beds had been. She had sold it out and they never recovered. She moved on with trepidation and worry.

*   *   *

Today, between the drought and deluge, summertime brings the sweetness of a ripe tomato, red and juicy as the act of love. Carmel knows of the dangers outside the fence that protects her, but has decided to be aware, do what she can, and move forward. She will defend the boundaries with her life and welcome in those that care. The invitees are different, unusual, yet seek a peace that they know is true. Their peace, not necessarily hers, but welcomed just the same. A peace to be planted, tended and harvested–until the next deluge.

Between Drought and Deluge

Red Rock Canyon – Aliens Above Las Vegas

As those of you who follow me on social media already know, I spent the past Memorial Day weekend with friends and hubby in Las Vegas, Nevada. After we landed at the airport, we took a quick auto tour of “the strip” which was as expected–the beyond cuckoo world of an adult Disneyland nestled smack dab in the middle of the Mojave Desert. We spent the rest of our time taking in the unique beauty of the surrounding area.

Taking into Consideration that the U.S. Government owns 85% of the land in Nevada, much of which is used by the military, it isn’t unusual to see unexplained objects in the night sky. Then, of course, there is the infamous Area 51 where rumors of alien contact run rampant. Still, I was surprised to find this video today taken the same night, from the same neighborhood, where we stayed.

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area Red Rock Canyon NCA is a mere 15 miles west of Las Vegas and is easily seen from the strip. It is also an area visited by strange lights and objects in the night sky. There are numerous reports that aliens have been seen in the casinos, alongside Elvis sightings–remember Men in Black? I’ll have to admit that I am often tuned in to my surroundings–some may say psychic–at the very least, sensitive. That’s why I took this photo. Looks like an alien encampment to me–how about you?

 

Red Rock Canyon – Aliens Above Las Vegas

River Agosto--Your wake-up call.

River flipped through the restaurant menu guide at the Hampton Suites. She had intended to eat earlier at the bar, but her appetite had faded with the anxiety that lingered inside her. Why? She didn’t know, but now she was famished. She ordered from the first pizza delivery service listed, hung up and re-dialed.  Rochelle answered her cell. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is River, I just got in.”

“Have you been to the site yet?”

“No, I told you, I just got in.”

A long silence followed—probably a few minutes, but to River, it felt like an hour. Rochelle used long pauses to control conversations. River used to jump in, but as soon as she’d start to speak, Rochelle would cut her off. She had learned to wait her boss out and the test had turned into a game between them. Who would go first? River had nowhere to go and she leaned back on the bed pillow.

“Are you there?” Rochelle’s voice finally came through.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for a pizza delivery. Is there something you need?”

“I’m sending Dusty to meet up with you in a few days. I want all the sampling done before she gets there . . . understood?”

“Sure, no problem. Anything else?”

“No that’s it. Have a good night.”

The abrupt ending of the call sent panic through her veins, she didn’t know why. Routine activities usually helped. A few hours later River had scarfed the delivered pizza, drank a few beers from the honor bar, watched a shopping channel on TV, took a long hot bath and got into bed. Just before she dozed off, she looked at the clock which said 2:00.

The dream was different. Not the usual race through the darkness she had come to expect.

The moonlit landscape flowed high and low through mountains and valleys. Animals—large and small cats, birds, lizards and snakes–huddled around an oasis of wetland. When she approached, they became motionless statues, when she backed off and they would resume drinking. A hand grabbed at her shoulder; River turned and gazed into the eyes of a red-haired woman.

“Are you a robber?” River asked.

“Oh no, I am on your side. I’m here to protect you. If anyone bothers you, you call me.”

River wanted to believe, but thought it best to move away. Two older women with hoes were digging trenches through which the waters of the oasis drained. The animal statues crumbled to sand. River ran her fingers through the particles and cried.

The phone call jarred River awake. “Good Morning Ms. Agosto,  this is your wake-up call.”

My work in progress, a novel with the working title of “River” ,is an environmental/political thriller focused on water and wildlife issues of the American Desert Southwest. I welcome any and all comments or information to help me drive the story. (Including the infamous WALL, immigration issues, and current government administrations.) This is a tidbit of story.  elaine@mediadesign-mds.com

River Agosto--Your wake-up call.

Alliance For Aging Research -- Heartfelt, Caregiver"s Guide

I am honored to be included in the campaign to educate heart patients and their caregivers about Heart Valve repair and replacement surgery. My book, “Heartfelt” is featured this month on the Alliance for Aging Research’s website. http://www.livingwithvalvedisease.org/ 

Order Heartfelt, Caregiver’s Guide to Cardiomyopathy and Mitral Valve Surgery ORDER

 

 

 

Alliance For Aging Research -- Heartfelt, Caregiver"s Guide

Keep the Power On--alternative energy sources for home and away.

Personal Power

To connect with and hold on to power is high on my list—not political power—Goddess no! Electrical power—pure, simple, plugs. You know the ones—little, big, one prong, two prong or three prong oddly shaped electric plugs that make a male/female connection sexy. So sexy that they light up and energize cell phones, computers, appliances, radios, TVs, and miscellaneous adult and childish toys of all kinds. Titillation that would make Thomas Edison take notice.

If you follow this blog you know that I’m preparing for a road trip—short at first to get my sea legs—to soon increase in time and distance. This will happen with my longtime friend, husband and ally, Blake—this is if I can keep him alive, but that’s another story. (Check out the home page for Balanced on the Edge of the Crowd and Heartfelt.) The long and short of it is, we’ve come a long way and so has technology. Check out the pictures below to see the change in vehicles. The 1966 Chevy converted camper (top) is what we traveled in for the first ten years together. The Thor Motor Coach (bottom) is newly purchased.

Then there’s the weather. (Or like D.Trump likes to say— “It’s just weather.”) I don’t know where you live, but we have increasingly turbulent weather. (Global warming? DT says Naw.) Today there is a flood alert and so far, power. Yet on some days, life and all our techie gadgets become powerless—for all useful purposes, dead. An unknown brutal attack comes out of nowhere that kills the power. Can you say alternative energy? (DT can’t.) Well I can. Which brings me to why I’m telling you all this. The answer is of course, on the internet, where you can find anything, that is, if you have the power.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s a handy clickable list of what we’ve bought so far:

ZTE MOBILE HOTSPOT

https://www.consumercellular.com/Products/676/Details

 

GOAL ZERO  Yeti 150 Solar Generator Power Pack

https://www.bhphotovideo.com/c/product/1043818-REG/goal_zero_gz_22004_yeti_150_solar_generator.html

http://www.goalzero.com

 

Apple  16GB iPod touch (6th Generation)

https://www.bhphotovideo.com/c/product/1170761-REG/apple_mkh62ll_a_16gb_ipod_touch_space.html

 

instaCHARGE Grab-and-Go 4-pack 4,000 mAh Portable Device Chargers with Charging Station and 5 Charging Cables

https://www.hsn.com/products/instacharge-4pk-portable-device-chargers-wcharge-dock/8196646

 

Bose® SoundLink® Color II Water-Resistant Bluetooth Speaker

https://www.hsn.com/products/bose-soundlink-color-ii-bluetooth-speaker/8250041

 

With the above, we can now get an internet connection, recharge and power almost anything at home or on the road, without a land connection. Pretty cool and so Beyond Cuckoo.

           

Keep the Power On--alternative energy sources for home and away.

Clancy -- River Agosto, "It"s the eyes."

“The President of Mexico and I have cancelled our meeting set for next week.” Wolf Blitzer and his Situation Room’s coverage of Donald Trump’s latest presidential decree caught River’s eye as she slid onto the bar stool nearest the TV. The president’s insistence that a wall would be built along the U.S./Mexican border and that “one way or the other” Mexico would pay, had been the topic of discussion all day at the irrigation canal site.

“What can I get for you?”

River pulled her attention from the newscast and focused on the caramel brown eyes that had asked the question. “What do you have on tap?” was all she could think of to say, even though she really wanted something stronger than a beer.

Mr. Brown Eyes set a cold mug of the local lager on the bar.

“Nice color,” River said. “Same color as your eyes.”

“So I’ve been told,” replied the bartender as he set a bowl of pepitas next to the beer.

“What do you think of this wall idea?” River asked with a nod towards the broadcast.

“It’s gettin’ folks’ attention, that’s for sure.”

“Can I ask your name?” River decided that political insanity could take back seat to her current interest behind the bar.

“Clancy, Clancy Reynolds. Yours?”

“River, River Agosto.”

“That’s an interesting name, “Clancy laughed. “Are you a water sign?”

“No, but I do work for a water engineering company—been out in the field all day taking soil samples.”

“So, you’re one of them. Excuse me I’ve got other customers.” Clancy tossed a paper coaster in front of the woman that now sat a few stools away. “How’s it going Nora?”

“Do me a favor Clancy and turn on Channel 98, I think we made the news today.”

A few remote clicks filled the flat screen showing a portion of wall under construction in Sunland, New Mexico. A few protestors held banners with pictures of Mexican wolves. The few minute spot featured Nora explaining the effects that an expanded border wall would have on local wildlife, especially Los Lobos.

“We didn’t get a whole lot of coverage, but at least it’s something. We’ve been trying to lure the last twenty or so wolves north, but they’re playing hard to get. I don’t know what we’ll be able to do if we can’t.”

Clancy set a beer in front of Nora and jerked his head toward River. “Well this lady here, is helping the corporates to build more canals.”

River stiffened. “So, tell me what’s wrong with that? You people need water, no?”

Nora held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Nora Freedman, I work for the local freebie paper and volunteer for the Environmental Center.”

River shook the welcoming hand. “I’m River, River Agosto and like this bar keep said I work for Global Engineering and was sent to see if more canals will meet EPA standards. I’m not the bad guy, just a worker bee.”

“Look, there isn’t bad or good in the desert, only survival. Viewpoints differ, but it all ultimately comes down to water rights and distribution. We’ve been restoring wetlands with some success, but the Rio Grande is a puddle most of the year and we’re trying to reverse the trend. Today our focus was on the wolves. There are only about 100 left and we hope to reverse their extinction.”

“So, are you involved with this effort?” River touched Clancy’s hand that rested on the bar.

“Yeah, I’ve done some dirt work in the wetlands. When my Mom was a girl there were fish and beaver in both the river and the ponds. The dams and canals now send most of the water to El Paso for the cotton farmers.”

River finished off her beer and realized she needed to report in with the office. Rochelle threatened to can her ass if she didn’t keep in touch—especially since Dusty was still missing.

“Look, this has been very interesting and all, but I gotta go.” River had hoped to smooth things over with Clancy before she left, but that would have to wait. Her gut said to stay away from him, but those eyes. . .

Clancy -- River Agosto, "It"s the eyes."

It"s All In The Timing--River Agosto"s Early Years

River cut through the orange orchard to save a few minutes. Perfect timing allowed her to dally at the library and still get home by 6:00 for dinner. It didn’t matter where she went, or what she did, as long as she hit her mark at the table when the first dishes came out of the kitchen.

“How was school today?” Her mother asked, as she did every school day. On weekends and holidays, with nothing to say, she often said nothing at all.

“Mrs. Seidel let me feed the hamster,” River said as she passed the hamburger helper to her Father who dished mounds of the unidentifiable slop on to his plate. The smell of cigarettes and beer was stronger than usual and her sister, Anna, scowled from across the table.

“I hope you washed your hands,” Anna said. “You know those things are no different than rats. Who knows what kind of germs you’ve brought home to the rest of us.”

The family of four fell into the silence of eating—forks scraped melamine plates, interrupted by sips of water and an occasional sniffle or cough. River retreated to the world she had devoured earlier at the library. Mrs. Seidel’s homework assignment was to write about a place from a branch of each student’s family tree. River didn’t know if she should choose her father’s white-side from Oklahoma or her mother’s hispanic-side from Mexico. She spent two hours going through encyclopedias researching Mayan culture. She stayed a high priestess until it was time to clear the dishes.

*   *   *

The swamp cooler pumped musty dampness through the stucco dwelling. If it ran all day, it would be tolerable when they got home from the packing house. Her father was lucky—he had a sales job at the local furniture store. He’d be cool all day—drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes between customers. The three other pieces of the family would be sorting, washing and packing tomatoes all week in 100º heat. The packing shed had fans which helped some, but not much.

“Break time,” the crew captain shouted.

“Come hijas, I brought cold Cokes and tuna sandwiches.”

“Tuna again?” Anna whined.

River knew the look on her mother’s face and smiled cautiously as she took the cold drink and lunch. Heat brought out the matriarch’s snarly side and River cringed under the constant put downs. Anna, with a few years more experience, had learned how to snap back and win. River, on the other hand, melted under the pressure.

“The way your father’s paycheck is these days; you should be grateful we have anything at all. He was pretty good at selling cars, but he can’t sell a sofa or TV for the life of him. We wouldn’t be here, if he could earn a living. I don’t know what got into me when I married him.”

“I know what got into you,” the crew captain’s voice came up from behind. “I’d like to do the same.”

“Pedro,” her mother pushed the man’s hands from her waist. “Not in front of the girls.”

“Okay, Angelina—later,” he whispered as he shuffled away.

River had watched her mother go through men. She seemed to hate their father unless he had a big commission month. Then he’d take her out to dinner and buy something they couldn’t afford like jewelry. If he was broke, as he usually was, she’d go out with just about anyone who could show her a good time. When she came home there would be hitting, screaming and door slams. One night River tried to climb into Anna’s bed for safety, but her sister kicked her to the floor. River never tried again. Instead she put on headphones and turned the Walkman radio up loud—but not until she locked the bedroom door. If she had a dog, she’d be protected. That’s what dogs do, they protect, love and befriend. That’s why dogs were banned from their house—no love allowed, period.

Lunch break lasted thirty minutes. River finished the last sip of Coke and looked at her watch. She never went anywhere without it. She timed her life exactly. Sometimes she made a list, but only if she had to plan for something late in the month. Usually she made each day’s plan when she awoke in the morning. She had gotten good at how long each thing took. Fifteen minutes to wash face, use toilet and brush teeth. Twenty minutes to eat a bowl of cereal. Half hour to walk to school. Or in Summer, like now, be in the family car by 6 a.m. to ride to work.

By California labor laws, age ten was officially too young to be working full time, even during the Summer break from school. Yet there were at least ten kids her age at the packing house, even more in the fields. The field work was much harder, so River was thankful that her mother was such good friends with Pedro.

“I’ll be right back. I have to pee,” River announced.

“Don’t be late to the line like yesterday,” Anna scolded. “I had to cover for you.”

“Yeah, we can’t afford to lose our place near the fan because you wait until the last minute to go to the bathroom,” Angelina added.

River pointed to her beloved watch and said, “I’ve got ten minutes.” 

*   *   *

In bed at exactly 9:00, River went to her favorite place—the place where, in her dreams, she was a princess. Her Mayan throne, atop the central pyramid, commanded a view of the city and she commanded respect. On high holy days people traveled great distances to bring her gifts and ask for her blessing and advice. Two jaguars crouched nearby and she tossed them tidbits of meat.

“Where have you been? Bitch!” River jolted back to consciousness with the sound of her father’s voice.

“None of your business,” Angelina responded. “I’ve been working in the heat all day and I needed some air.”

“Yeah, sure. You went to see that guy you work for. What’s his name? Pedro?”

“I told you I just went out to clear my head and to get away from you. You stink like a tequila factory.”

River knew what was coming. Anna had gone out with some friends, so she had to think fast in case they pulled her into their argument. Somehow, when things went bad, they found a way to make her feel it was all her fault. The fights usually turned to money woes and River became the extra mouth to feed, her clothes cost money, and she needed school supplies. It didn’t help that River didn’t look much like her father, Ernie.

“Where’s that kid of yours?” River heard through the door, which she quickly latched. Ernie pounded on it and she knew it wouldn’t hold much longer. If she only had a dog to bark and growl, she’d be okay. Or maybe two leopards. Protectors suitable for a Mayan princess.

My work in progress, a novel with the working title of “River” ,is an environmental/political thriller focused on water and wildlife issues of the American Desert Southwest. I welcome any and all comments or information to help me drive the story. This is a tidbit of backstory.  elaine@mediadesign-mds.com

It"s All In The Timing--River Agosto"s Early Years