Well hi there! We’d like to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to introduce you to our brand spanking new zine, The Winds of Barren-Lea. It’s a short fairytale I wrote over the summer, and Sean illustrated it and made it into a zine.
The story was inspired by our first night camping in Marfa, Texas, where some unnervingly strong winds broke our tent and wrecked havoc on our campsite. After that, I found myself daydreaming about a town where the wind always blew from the same direction. I started to weave in elements of our continuing travels — the way a friend described a giant shop window rippling and shattering in front of her eyes in San Francisco, or the way the halyards on my dad’s ship vibrated in the wind until they made a sound like singing.
When I asked Sean to illustrate it, he started out by drawing the characters and scenes I’d described, but eventually he chose to focus on the simpler elements — small but essential details that the characters themselves would care about.
If you want to get your mitts on one, just shoot me an email — we’re asking $5, but we’d also be happy to set you up with a payment plan where you can just work off your debt by smiling at dogs you pass on the street. Sound good?
After three weeks of visiting friends and family, Thursday marked our first day of venturing into the unknown. The unknown started with the Caverns of Sonora in Sonora, Texas, where we pitched our new tent in a beautiful little campground, alone except for a small band of deer and a frustrated peacock.
It’s hard putting yourself out there.All that quiet was just too tempting.
On the way to Sonora, we’d worried about having enough daylight to set up camp in, but towards 9 o’clock we were still watching a phenomenal sunset. This is probably because the sky in Texas is about twice as big as anywhere else — something that a scientist might contest, but only if they weren’t from Texas.
As we were admiring said sunset, we ran into one of the park’s tour guides, Chris, who was out walking his dog and looking for birds. He showed us the woodpecker nest he’d been watching and explained that the male woodpecker builds a nest before finding a mate, to show the females he’s worth their time. (Our peacock friend could probably learn a thing or two.)
Unfortunately, this magical evening gave way to a decidedly unpleasant night. The sleeping cushion I’d bought for seven dollars at Walmart — really more of a yoga mat made out of flip-flop material — was only marginally better than sleeping on the ground, and the stuffy air and insects kept us both up half the night. Worse still, when we finally stumbled out of the tent in the morning, we discovered that raccoons had gotten into our cooler bag (damn those nimble, adorable fingers) and half our food stash was gone.
It was a rough start to the day, but things looked up when we took a tour of the caverns with our new friend Chris. The experience gave me a profound appreciation not just for the vast and bizarre world that exists underneath us, but for the people who worked to explore and study the caverns back when they could only see a flashlight’s length into what lay ahead.
Also, it was nice and cool down there. Why hasn’t Texas built an underground city yet?
We wanted to stay in Sonora an extra night, but none of the three outdoor supply stores we checked in town sold camping gear, and I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping on my flip-flop mat again. Instead, we packed up and headed for Marfa, Texas. Stay tuned for tales of (hopefully) weird art and alien sightings!
About a week ago Sean and I made it to Plano, Texas, where he grew up. As a country kid, I used to be confused when he told people he was from “the Dallas area” — like, are you from Dallas or are you from a completely different town? (Fortunately, when I tell people I’m from Iowa their only question is whether that’s the one with corn or the one with potatoes. It’s the one with corn.)
Now, having spent some time in Dallas, I understand that Plano is part of Dallas in much the same way this park bench is part of the creek:
Plano’s Chisolm Creek on Sunday. What climate change?
Basically, the Dallas area is like a transformer made of towns that it swallowed up. This is all very foreign to me; New Orleans, though it contains enough weirdness for a few Dallases put together, is actually a very small city. I’ve never lived anywhere where the downtown had more than three exits. In fact, the town where I grew up could probably be comfortably housed inside one of Dallas’s skyscrapers.
As luck would have it, this turned out to be the perfect time for Sean to visit his childhood home: the day after we arrived, his parents put it on the market. After 20+ years in Plano, they’ve set their sights on something a little more rural. I’m excited to visit them at their fainting goat farm next time around, but I imagine it’s pretty weird for Sean — it’s hard to say goodbye to the place you spent your formative years in.
And I do mean formative.
While his parents shopped for their new home, Sean and I decided to become homeowners ourselves. Our budget was about $12.99, and I think we did pretty well for ourselves.
Feel free to visit! We have a guest wing.
Our visit was also well-timed because it coincided with Father’s Day, and Sean has one of those. His grandfather, Richard, also lives in the area, so the lot of us went out to celebrate their fatherliness with pizza and beer.
Three generations of cool dudes.
We also took a little day trip to Denton, where one of Sean’s high school friends is now a father himself. We spent a few hours in the thrall of Neva’s cuteness, discussing matters such as “hat!” and “hi!” We learned that any item can be classified as a hat when you put it on your head, including but not limited to plastic stacking cups and my hoop earrings.
Take a look at that little tum-tum and tell me you’re not in love.
After Dallas we’ll be in uncharted waters for a couple weeks, covering some territory that’s unfamiliar to both of us. With our hearts full of Texas love, we’re ready to take on anything.
The Good Ship Watermelon 