I think their names were Elsie and Dr. Drummond. Intelligent, hard working, true gypsies at heart, and weathered, rugged souls. The mules that is. I don't remember his name. Maybe it was Delirious. We passed him time and again on the two lane highway in the Mojave desert, where I lived til I was seven. My dad pulled off the road in our GMC Carryall and took this picture in 1954 or so. Delirious would be arguing with the sage brush and cussing at tortoises. It honestly got as hot as 130 degrees in the summer. Your loftier thoughts would simply boil inside your head. You wanted wet water in the worst way, or Coke or Orange Crush, Seven Up, Grape Soda, anything cold, why you might just suck on a cactus. The roof of my mouff iss dry juss ssccthinking about it. Water, wadder, wa-er....He would go up into them hills and look for gold. His bones may still be bleaching in the sand somewhere out there. There used to be a lot of wild burros in the desert. I don't think they were looking for gold, per se. Animals know how to find treasure. They graze. Right here. Right now. They know that it is right in front of you if you just take the time to look.
1 comment:
I need a drink.
Post a Comment