May in Ixtlahuacan, how I love to complain about you. It's throat searingly dry. Everything is brown outside our walls. It's the month we have to hand water. Mexicans are burning shit. And this year, to add insult to injury, the beautiful mountain behind our house has been on fire for a week. Dusty doesn't even begin to describe what's happening on the surfaces inside my house. Last night, the breeze was just right and I kid you not, it was raining ash all around us when Ev was on the mirador with binoculars looking at the fire. The first fly of the season usually appears in late May making some of us act like crazy people with the tennis racket bug zapper. Our foothills are so dry they open cracks 3+ inches wide, Hilde has to pick her way even more slowly on our walks.
And yet...May holds much promise. There is evidence we'll have lemons, limes, oranges, avocado and mango later in the year. On our walk this morning I found the eucalyptus tree demolished last fall by the local curandera is growing shiny tender new leaves. The quince are so fat and juicy we know we'll have a crop that will pay for our water and taxes for the year. And sometime in May come the "rainbirds" with their deafening din, promising rain will be here in 6 weeks or less. There is goodness in May, too. Ripe avocados fall from the tree outside our bedroom window, waking us at 2a.m. The pool is a delicious 85 degrees. Hummers are vocal,street hens scuttle low, shepherding too many chicks to count. The plumeria and ginger scent the air like nobody's business.
And yet...May holds much promise. There is evidence we'll have lemons, limes, oranges, avocado and mango later in the year. On our walk this morning I found the eucalyptus tree demolished last fall by the local curandera is growing shiny tender new leaves. The quince are so fat and juicy we know we'll have a crop that will pay for our water and taxes for the year. And sometime in May come the "rainbirds" with their deafening din, promising rain will be here in 6 weeks or less. There is goodness in May, too. Ripe avocados fall from the tree outside our bedroom window, waking us at 2a.m. The pool is a delicious 85 degrees. Hummers are vocal,street hens scuttle low, shepherding too many chicks to count. The plumeria and ginger scent the air like nobody's business.
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