Bridget and Spike sleep late this morning.
I listen to their breathing, while watching the dark turn to light through the window blinds. Once they wake, it’s a mad rush to get them into their black suits and out the door to do their business at their favorite pee-tree (as opposed to a tee-pee!).
Walking to the shower house, the crew and I notice most of the campers have left. There’s only the camp host, one Class C, and our Casita.
Later a couple from Tennessee pull in towing a tear-drop trailer.
Campgrounds are ever-changing.
Yesterday the cool air was filled with the smell of barbeques and the sound of Spanish music. Souped-up trucks with loud exhausts hauled boats or jet-ski trailers by our site. Children ran by laughing or raced by on bikes, people hung their towels and camp stuff out to dry, slammed doors, hollered “Honey, where’s the big plate?” or “How many burgers do you want?” . . . .
Now it’s quiet again.
The only sound is the occasional, hoarse squawk of the big black bird cruising in great sweeps over the mesquite and juniper trees. He apparently has appointed himself in charge of the sky above the park. The crew and I have seen and heard him every one of the days we’ve camped here.
Yesterday morning I met a couple, New Mexicans from not too far way, who showed great interest in me and the crew living in our camper. They asked many questions and the lady exclaimed brightly, “You are so courageous!”
She wanted to know what I do when I get lonely. I had to tell her the truth . . . “I don’t get lonely.”
I invited them in for a peek at the inside of the Casita. They seem like a happy couple. Later they gave a big wave as they pedalled past on their bikes, while Spike and Bridget took me for another walk around the campground.
The crew and I ride into town.
I want to gas up the PTV and pick up a jar of canola oil, a box of tea bags, and some bottled water. Little did I know that the charming little T & D Market is actually a front for a vicious vortex of gossip which swirls around the lady at the cash register. I thought the cold breeze was from the air conditioner! I smile politely and escape with my canola oil, tea, and water.
Back at the camp I decide to line up the PTV for an easy hitch in the morning.
I fold up the exercise pen and velcro it in place behind the passenger seat. I rinse off the dirt splashed up by last night’s rain onto the lounge chair and side table which were blown over. They go in behind the driver’s seat. I wash all the windows, all sixteen of them on the PTV and Casita! I resolve to do a better job battening down the stuff in the Casita before we leave tomorrow. I’m still finding dots of pepper coming out from under the faucets and the range top!
This is our last night at Santa Rosa.
I’m glad we stayed here for as long as we did.
At first glance Santa Rosa is easy to spurn. Give her some time and she wins you over with her charms.