Soon after we landed in Locust Bayou the mosquitos started biting. But we enjoyed visiting and eating a yummy fried catfish dinner prepared by Ophie Grace. Everyone served themselves off the stovetop; some stayed inside to watch the game while I sat outside with JT, Judy (Becky’ cousin), and her husband Steve. The carport’s connected to the house and open on three sides with twenty or thirty mounted deer trophies lining the interior. Barn swallows had nests in all four corners and were actively feeding their young while we ate. Our dogs did great. Earlier, I’d taken them for a big walk in the back, past the coneflowers and Catawba trees, near the swampy woods were the swamp rabbits play. Just past JT’s shooting target there were five fresh catfish heads resting comfortably among the crawdad mounds. In the distance I could see Doyle Jr's new pond and saw and heard his son’s Treeing Walker Hounds howling. Nemo bolted towards them then bolted back. After dinner, Nemo entertained us with his tennis ball skills and everyone shared stories. JT told me more about the Walker hounds and his nephew who hunts raccoons with them. “The carcasses bring about $6 a piece and he’ll get five or six in a night. He sells the skins but gets more for the meat. But he really just enjoys the hunt. When you skin them you got to leave one foot with claws on it to prove it’s a coon and not a cat.” Steve was curious about our travels in Mexico and seemed impressed with a teacher’s summers off. So I told him a bit about my work then asked about his. Turns out, he works for a diaper company in Locust. JT said: “I know a fellar who was fined $500 for stealing their reject diapers from the dump. He was selling defective diapers and got caught.” (Fast forward to Texas and beyond) We got up early and drove thru Hope and Cumby and Waco. We saw lots of exes in Texas. Crossing the border was incredibly quiet and humorous. Luckily we weren’t in a big hurry. Driving to Matehuala was long and lovely although driving in Mexico is anything but relaxing. Zipping along at 120 kph then rounding a curve to greet a propane truck going 10 kph. Oh yeah. Or a cow. (Texting while driving…not such a problem here). All the while soaking in the majesty of the Sierre Madres and the flatlands in between—endless, rough little villages with poetic names and zones populated with roadside stands selling fresas con crema or animal skins and strings of garlic. Glancing to the right to see a stick-wielding shepherd herding sheep and goats. Glancing to the left to catch a glimpse of a tiny, bright white statue of Jesus cocked at an odd angle in tall grass while a sudden swarm of bugs dot my windshield. And seven rows of speed bumps bring me back. We arrived in Matehuala at dusk. The Oasis was dog-friendly and reasonably priced, and cars bumping over nearby topes during the night sounded exactly like someone breaking into my car.
