Looking at the many ancient pottery shards scattered everywhere on the sand mound that covers and surrounds the ruin by Twin Rocks Trading Post.
The spring winds delight in depositing mounds of red sand on the porch and the westerly side of the stairs, requiring constant sweeping lest we meet the fate of the Anasazi village situated just 100 yards west of the store. That ruin, which I believe is approximately 1,000 years old, is completely covered with centuries of sediment. Now that the sand has long since filled the rooms of that ancient pueblo, it just skips across the ruin on its westward march, stopping briefly by the trading post to allow me to sweep it out into the parking lot.
I have often thought that a few years of neglect may result in the trading post also being completely covered by this red dirt. After several hundred years the trading post might be considered a vast archaeological treasure. Barry and I would undoubtedly generate some curious stares from the contemporary scientific community. "Very odd," I can hear them saying as they attempt to decipher the mystery of these two strange beings. So, year after year I sweep, shovel and channel the sand away from our door.
As I swept out after the last big wind storm, I realized how those grains of sand remind me of the events that occur at the trading post on an everyday basis, resulting in mounds of memories; each one as distinct as the grains of sand. From time to time those mounds of memories also need to be swept, shoveled or channeled out of my head. For the most part, however, they simply accumulate. Some of the grains making up the mounds in my mind cause me to laugh when they resurface, and some of them just make me sentimental.
Folk Art Chickens on the Anasazi Ruin by Twin Rocks Trading Post.
The other day Barry and I were talking about all the folk art chickens we have bought and sold over the years, and how folk art has become a very important part of our daily routine. Each morning I come into the trading post, and the colors and shapes of the folk carvings make me just a little bit happier; a little less serious. In any case, I began thinking about a series of carved chickens I once purchased from Anthony Tahy. Anthony carves some of the more detailed chickens we carry, and always does a very nice job. His carvings are done from one piece of wood, usually a forked branch of cottonwood, which allows him to extend the head and tail beyond the base. He generally brings in 12 to 15 pieces at a time. When he arrives, the carvings are spread out on the counter for inspection and discussion. Price is negotiated on an individual basis.
On one particular occasion, Anthony's chicken carvings were all bunched together, and he simply gave me a price for the whole lot. Thinking that it was a fair offer, and since I was happy to avoid the tedious piece by piece negotiations, I readily agreed. As I began to put price tags on the carvings, I realized the reason for my good fortune; one of the chickens had only one leg. Realizing that there was not much I could do about this unhappy situation, I stuck a price tag on it and placed it on the shelf, hoping somebody would come by, take pity on this malformed carving and want it for their collection.
Week after week people came to the trading post, looked at the one legged chicken and scratched their heads in confusion. They didn't know whether it was a joke, or whether somebody had just made an unfortunate cut. Actually, I never knew the answer to the question myself. In any case, after several weeks of dealing with this carving, Matthew Yellowman came strolling into the store. Grange and Kira had been watching a movie about pirates a few days earlier, which gave me an idea. I asked Matt to carve that chicken a prosthesis, just like the pirates used to wear. A few days later Matt walked back in with the problem resolved. The chicken now sported a new wooden leg; one that would have made any buccaneer proud.
The one-legged chicken.
Wondering whether anyone else would reconize my self proclaimed genius in solving this puzzle, I placed the carving back on the shelf. Over the next few days people came in, noticed the chicken with its prosthetic limb and seemed unconvinced that I had arrived at an appropriate solution. In due time the buccaneering chicken found a nice home in Carlsbad, California. I have frequently missed that one legged chicken, just as I would miss sweeping the red earth from the trading post if the spring winds failed to blow.
Copyright©2002 Twin Rocks Trading Post
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