When We Knew
Our first drive up the ditch road.
We drove past the piece of land a handful of times. We would take the scenic route to the dairy from town, or the long way from the hardware store to the family’s house on Huma. We couldn’t see much from the road. The high ditch bank blocked any view but a sliver of land on the hill. The first time we decided to stop and really look it was a misty summer morning. The eastern planes were pale with the morning river fog and the sun was soft. We drove the truck along the irrigation ditch, the water was low but clear. Hugo pointed out each sunflower and telling me to, “Look! look at the sunflowers.” I knew he was thinking of the bees. We stopped in front of a bush growing in the center of the road. I got down from the truck to inspect it and found the two-inch-long spikes of a mesquite.
We decided to walk along the bank and see if the road would be passable ahead. We looked at the long piece of land across the ditch and the wildflowers and grasses that spotted the desert scape. I decided to dig my hands into the sandy bank and feel the soil. It was clay dust in my hands. When I squeezed my hand closed and reopened it the earth held the shapes of the fine lines of my hand. A topographical egg-shaped map of my palm and fingers. I looked at Hugo as I stood up. “I think this is it.” I told him, looking into his eyes. “I think this is the land.” He looked back at with surprise. “Yeah?” He scanned the area again. “It’s nice to be on the water like this, but we have to find out about the rights.” And then, after a pause, “Wanna keep going?”
I took the machete down from the truck and began to chop and hack at the mesquite bush that blocked our path.
We had to remove another mesquite further along the road. It was hot by then, with the sun brighter and higher over us. We hacked and whacked and laughed as we took turns pulling the small spikey bushes out of the road. “No one drives this road or these wouldn’t be here.” Hugo commented, “Hmm, or so big.” I replied. We both had sweat on our faces.
We drove the rest of the road without getting out of the cool airconditioned cabin of the truck. We leaned hard into the space above the dashboard trying to see the house. We could see the trash on the edge of the property line pushing the wire of the fence out. The tires piled and the old grey wood jabbing the small hills. “They don’t take care of it.” He said. “Hmmm.” I replied.
“When we were kids, we would drive with my dad with the windows down and there would be so many grasshoppers they would be bouncing all over the inside of the truck. Me and Tayo would try to catch them and throw them back out.” We looked for the grasshoppers as drove the final stretch of ditch dirt road and back onto pavement. We spotted only a few. “Maybe we could plant more sunflowers along the ditch, maybe we could bring back the grasshoppers.” Hugo always has ideas like this about restoring natural local ecosystems and encouraging biodiversity. “Hmmm.” I looked out of the truck window at the view to the East where the Pecos River draws a green line along the low desert horizon. “I bet we could.” I replied, thinking about the sunrise over the unobstructed plains and dreaming about waking up to the soft foggy summer mornings.
In 2020 the grasshoppers are back in beautiful techno-color glory.
