Blog's Back! Featuring: Her Lady Protectoress

Though we dwell in cities & flatter us with musings of dominion, yet are not invulnerable to the creeping THINGS that creepeth. Particularly on your free-ranging fowl would these feral creepers fain fill their hungry jowls.
   And so it was when yesterafton stole upon the flock a voracious VARG from the North Country.
      And came the beast with all peculiar ill-intent to take a hen in his belly.
         There be the hens--hear their contented CLUCKS.
And now approacheth the WICKED wolf: he almost tastes his meal & prepares to POUNCE...


But HEARK! The ROAR of HER LADY PROTECTORESS from her high & watchful vantage. In kindled rage she HEAVES herself upon the iron gates, which crumple by her mickle MIGHT.
And LO! The vile intruder quals at Teeka's WRATH, first to COWER, then to LOPE away from whence the furry DEVIL came...


     All Hail HER LADY PROTECTORESS!

A Rite of Spring, Undoubtedly. P.S Does anyone care about the Rumpus Room anymore?

Mother Mary, Her Prolific Highness is still cranking them out! And there is much rejoicing all about the Galilee.

It's with a solemn propriety that we are enjoying the very last of the Triple D products at the same time as the first hopeful tastes of future O Street prosperity.

EGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...[I]n the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jew? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. Then laid they about the object of their quest all gold and treasure from the Orient, together with incense and myrrh, so that thus bedight the humble henhouse shone like a palace...

She's well acquainted with the touch of a velvet hand..

This is a test. Does anyone read or care about the blog anymore?

Campamento, Villa Comatitlan, Chiapas, Mexico

1. Coffee out to dry
2. "One of these things is not like the other,/One of these things is not the same..."
3. Self-indulgent picture
4. Welcome to the Jungleª

On the Road

I'm not actually "on the road" anymore. I use this title to perhaps spark a residual ember in brother Lex's interest in the family so that with gentle winds we can coax his prodigal fire to once again warm the Buendía hearth.

I'm not "on the road" anymore. I'm in hot and humid Tapachula after a week of travel with no serious fusterclucks, at least not any that I want to tell mom about. The pace of life is way different here. I arrived yesterday in the morning and made it to the CASFA (Centro de Agroecología San Francisco de Asis) office but no one was there. I found a shady curb and sat down. Pronto someone came and opened up. Juan José, the watchman, told me that José Caballero Cervantes, my contact from CASFA, would probably show up that day so I sat to wait while Juan José strung up his hammock. And so it went until dark when it became apparent that José Cabellero Cervantes wouldn't show up until today. The only change I made was to lie down, while Juan José in his hammock just had to shut his eyes.

Don José did show up today and everything is good to go for my time here, but today there is nothing for me to do. No offense, but boredom rather than any exciting event engendered this blogpost. The lack of activity is what makes me think that I may be able to survive on a diet of bananas and orange juice. Don't try this at home, my dear anaemic kin.

Not to make you jealous or anything...

...but here is a picture of me eating a pod of cacao.