Looking out my Backdoor: Morning has broken

“Like the first morning.” Scrub oaks, verdant from recent rains, reached out branches and clutched passing clouds onto high mountaintops, puffy sombreros heavy with moisture. Mountains held onto the clouds tightly until near noon when clouds, with a mind of their own, lifted off and away. Clouds will return, dark with a new load of water in the late afternoon, tonight’s fresh downpour. Since the season began, about six weeks ago, we’ve averaged half an inch each night.

Sounds idyllic, doesn’t it? Like any place, it has its moments.

Geraniums do not like this rainy season. Roses barely tolerate it. Everything else looks like an explosion of green on steroids. I have grasses that look like field corn. Beetles ate all my rose, gardenia and magnolia blossoms plus one hibiscus out of a dozen. Ants chomped leaves off several tender trees. This morning I had to kill ants before I could do my spiritual practice of Qi Gong. I don’t claim perfection.

Lani, Nancie and I went to Teuchitlan this morning for birria. Birria is a meat soup made with a spicy clear broth. The best birria is made with goat. And the best we have found is served at this little open terrace eatery alongside the highway at the entrance to Teuchitlan.

Nancie leaves tomorrow, back to her other home in Sedro Woolley, Washington, until she and Pat return in September. Nancie has astonished herself with her different attitude this trip. She said other trips have been frantic with projects to get done. She made this trip for the vacation of it. She puttered in the garden but that is pleasure.

I reaped the side benefits of my cousin’s vacation. We explored, ate in favorite places, and spent a lot of time sharing stories and relaxing. She said this is the first time her new house has felt like home.

She and I have talked a lot about what makes us like this place so well. Etzatlan has no tourist attractions. It’s not fancy.

For me this has been an easy place in which to settle. I’ve pared down my life to essentials, yet have more than enough activities to keep me busy and satisfied.

I view living here as a blend of old ways with new ways. I can get anything I need in this little cowtown with its winding lanes and cobblestone streets. It might take a bit of searching. Like this morning. I needed a rubber tip for my walking stick. Rubber rots quickly in our climate. To my northern way of thinking, the tips would be found in any (medical supply) pharmacy. I checked at four pharmacies and an electronics shop, directed there by a pharmacist, before I found the tips in a hardware store. What one “needs” is here. What one “wants” may require a trip to Guadalajara.

I had to chuckle when a friend in Oregon sent me a picture where she and her husband will move to downsize. It’s a three-bedroom, three-bathroom mansion to me. Downsizing?

I live in a 465-square- foot bungalow, plunk in the middle of a garden. I own one electric appliance. I make toast on a griddle and do most things in a similar old-fashioned way. Every item in my home I use on a regular basis. I love my life. It’s not everyone’s cup of coffee. I wouldn’t dream of talking you into the changes I’ve made. I know what is good for me might be unbearable for you. I lack for nothing but not everyone would see it that way.

One modern convenience I’m particularly fond of is my solar water heater. I formerly refilled my propane tank every two months. Now it’s more like every two years if the gauge is to be trusted. My electric costs 55 pesos a month. Water is 900 pesos a year. I have a venerable Kenmore washing machine. My clothes dryer is old-style solar, four lines strung between two poles. Does anybody remember those? My life is truly a blend of the old and the new.

I like the slower pace. Nobody hurries. If something doesn’t work according to the plan, shrug. Go to Plan B. People in town greet me with a hug and kiss. I feel welcomed, at home.

I’ll miss my cousin. But she’ll be back soon. Meanwhile, “Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven.”

“Que le vaya bien.” Roughly translated, “May your day go well.”

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].