Returning to the site

wind, bugs, and groaning

After nine hours and millions of ‘Can we stops?’ we arrived in the locale of my story—Kingsville (population 25K), Baffin Bay, and Riviera TX (ah, maybe 10). This is where my husband was born and the inspiration for my novel.

We returned for a family reunion. My husband’s family is numerous, covering towns for many miles around. I am careful not to say city. This is South Texas, small town Texas. A few hotels on the highway, some restaurants (notably a diner after which the diner in my story is patterned) taco stands, a roadside attraction of products from Mexico. You get the idea. My aside: thankfully no painted horses or Elvis portraits on velvet. I wouldn’t have stopped if there had been. Telling you. I wouldn’t have.

I did acquire this.

A whatchamaycallit

Notice is it not serving its purpose. I thought the blustery gusty North Texas wind would make it turn; however, as usual, I imagined things not quite as they actually are and have to punt. So, there’s that.

In Baffin Bay, the wind blows. Constantly. And, the mosquitos think it is nothing. Up here, in the north of Texas where the wind blows in gusts, our bugs are lazy. They hover at ground level and get me on the ankles or are sneaky and live in the potted mint on my patio which is, of course, nearby our patio table, thus, rendering the table a place for only intrepid DEET-covered souls to dine.

I am not intrepid. Tomorrow is July 4th. We are not doing the fireworks watch party thing. Air-conditioning, chili dogs on a pottery plate, cold beer and Capitol Fourth are just fine. Maybe we’ll zip over and check out the Boston Pops.

Back to south Texas hyped-up super bugs.

Their mosquitos fly at eye-level, happily I guess, making their way against the wind to any arm, neck or cheek available. Now, I get why the farmers in this area wear long-sleeved, collared Western-style shirts. However, even their red necks were targets.

Others, have taken up the northern bug strategy of living close to the ground. The reunion committee wanted a group photograph and a member decided to capture all 200+ of us with a drone. Great idea. Except that it took doing the group shot at dusk when the wind is low and the drone could fly. The mosquitos were hungry. No one stood still long enough for him to focus. But, it was family and some tried and paid the penalty, me included.

This is the part of the family that stood still, well sorta

The next day, my husband wanted to visit family graves. It’s that for better or worse promise that got me out of the car. We walked several cemeteries. We brushed up against weeds and grasses and whatever lived in those plants bit me. I itched. During the prayer before dinner, I tried not to scratch like a monkey, and reminded myself this was a fairly religious group so calling for mercy in a snarky voice and demanding napkins or paper towels so that you could apply anti-itch medicine wouldn’t be appropriate behavior.

My infamous anti-itch kit

There were miles and miles of fields under cultivation.

Fields with brown tops and green bottoms, with white dots of cotton, long skinny stalks, and rows that melted into infinity and made me dizzy as we drove by.

The church in Vattman TX

Off in the distance is the blacktop road to the ocean. I used it in the manuscript as well as the caliche road winding through the estuary. Following the estuary road you wind up at one of my husband’s uncles’ houses, a one-story modern affair which I changed into the 100-year-old farm house where another of his relatives was born. The uncle’s house has a yard that slopes down to the dark water of Baffin Bay. Across the water are the limestone cliffs of the King Ranch that rise out of the bay very much like the cliffs of Dover, England. Sun on them reflects back to you. Looking away from this fascinating geology is difficult. It makes you want binoculars so you can see the crevices and the plants that cling to the cliffs and grow along the ground at the top, forming a green line like icing on a cake.

At the reunion, old-timers remembered the six powerful hurricanes that struck the Texas Gulf Coast, one hitting this area square on, the drought that lasted over a decade, and polio epidemic that lasted about as long. They bowed their head, groaned and rolled their eyes. That was enough for me to know it had been tough and that I could tell you the story with the most drastic language it could muster.

The estuary and King Ranch cliff way in the distance

After years of absence, I saw differently. Geography hasn’t changed much. The family has. Seniors passed away and babies arrived. I came with more of a hunger for detail and nuance than before. A hunger to remember clearly so that I can give you the flavor of the area. I want the world in my manuscript to be as unique as this part of our land.

I hope you enjoyed the photographs and the reunion tale.

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Until next time.