This morning is a beautiful sunny morning in Dublan. The Mourning Doves and Wild Pigeons (White Wing Doves) are around on the ground in little bunches to find the gravel they need for their gizzards. The blackbirds are patrolling the garden looking for worms and insects. Our little Tige is romping around the yard with one ear that won't stand up, flopping across the top of his head. He is excited to be alive and thinks it is plenty warm because he drags his warm bed, that Karl made for him, out of the dog house to use outside. He is intelligent and tries to obey everything he understands and responds enthusiastically to every overture of affection and wiggles most of his body with his tail.

The trailer was full of trash that we had collected that consisted mostly of dry blackberry bushes, frozen Prickly Pear Cactus leaves, weeds and grass, and some kitchen garbage. We hooked up the red van to the trailer and went to the dump.

Casas Grandes is growing. Even after we turned off the highway that goes through town we passed 15 blocks going east filled with homes built close together on lots 15 Mts. wide by 30 Mts. long. These extend from the fence of the Dublan farms almost to the canal on the south.

When we arrived at the dump we were motioned to unload next to three other trucks that were there unloading. The ground was soft where the bulldozer had leveled while covering the previous garbage. We unloaded at the edge of a deep hole that was still about an acre in extent. While Ventura was unloading I looked around the dump. The whole area was mostly white with white plastic sacks but was dotted with black crows by the hundreds walking sedately around looking for something to eat. They swarmed even around the people who were working there recycling everything that could be used or sold. I marvel at how the people tear open every garbage bag and go minutely through every bit of garbage that comes out to the dump. There are usually 10 or 15 people there working in different areas and some couples working side by side. When their salvaged piles get big enough the trucks come and buy it and haul it away. It might be a truck load of metal or a truck load of bailed cardboard or whatever.

Today I saw a couple that looked like they had come from some place in the mountains. The woman was dismantling an inner spring mattress. She had torn off all of the cloth ticking and was finishing pulling out the cotton padding. It looked like a queen size inner spring it was complete with outer frame top and bottom with all of the springs joined together. A real find of steel and wire. She piled a load of cans and other scrap metal on the springs and dragged it all over to their growing pile. She was dressed in baggy men's clothing complete with a worn jacket. Her face was intelligent and nice looking and her hair was brought back and clasped loosely in the back where it hung down to her waist. It looked healthy and shiny and well cared for. She looked strong and accustomed to working with her hands. The man was about the same height and dressed in ordinary Chihuahua work clothes and a hat that was fairly new. I couldn't see his shoes or boots because they were deep in the garbage that he was turning over with a stick that had a nail in the end of it. I thought to myself that these people would make good members of the church. about then they had moved and Ventura was ready to go.

As we started out a truck load of sacked goods came into the dump. It looked to me like they were sacks of spoiled potatoes. Five little boys with sacks in their hands went running over to intercept the truck and be among the first at the unloading site. Apparently they had been waiting for this load of whatever it was.

While I was watching the couple near the van my attention was diverted to a burro straining and stretching to pull a wagon load of junk up out of the hole on a provisional steep road. I had to smile and admire that noble little animal who without faltering step by slow step came determinedly up the hill. He stopped only when the wagon was on the level. The man climbed down off the wagon and began to adjust his load that was piled as high as possible without some of it falling off. The harness the burro had on was an old Collar padded with rags, a pair of Haymes, and Tug Chains held up with a Back Strap.

The two men in charge of the dump have become good friends and always come over to chat a while when I come with a load. One works the morning shift and the other the afternoon shift. They each have their pile of junk and a shade to rest under. The dogs, I don't know how many, are in good shape and look well fed and the burros that pasture inside the dump fence are nice and fat. Most of the people that work in the dump are regulars but many only come on occasion and some are transient like the Tarahumara ladies that I saw the other day. I think the Indian ladies make a lot more money begging on the street than collecting in the dump. I am sure that the poor people that collect in the dump for a living are much too proud to beg and feel independent in their chosen work.

It's time for dinner so I must sign off. We are having a Stir Fry Hominy with Tortillas today. Come and join us.