Cake.

April 11, Ash Flat.

Dylan and Nicolas enjoyed the cake.

Cathy's birthday.

April 11, Ash Flat.

It was Cathy Poema's birthday today. She turned fourteen.

A trailer with a view.

April 11, Ash Flat, Arkansas (57 miles, next to Tri-County Ranch Supply.)

At the Poemas'.

April 9, Mountain Home.

In Argentina they call it an "asado."

Department of road signs.

April 9, Mountain Home.

On the street leaving the circus in the morning: "God bless the cirus (sic)."

Morning drive ups and downs.

April 9, Mountain Home.

Down from the lovely village of Mountain View we crossed the Ozark National Forest; dressed in budding spring it would be beautiful, in the early morning sunlight it was better than all the Expressionists in the world. I would have had a big Kodachrome postcard smile on my face had it not been for the nagging preoccupation of going up and down a mountain with a bad transmission and fifteen tons (and two kids) in the back.

A trailer with a view.

April 9, Mountain Home, Arkansas (50 miles, rodeo grounds.)

On with the zumba.

April 8, Mountain View.

The zumba lesson today had to move from the ring to the sidelines when the camels came in to practice.
They left and we moved back in.

The afternoon light.

April 8, Mountain View.

It's been a long time since I've taken a walk the way I used to, with the kids in the stroller, taking in the towns.
Down the road from the fairgrounds here there was a city park with a stone amphitheater going down to a small wooded creek; the dogwoods were in bloom, wild flowers piercing last year's mantle of dead leaves, sounds of the circus drifting with the wind. The kids threw rocks in the water, they wanted to go in the woods beyond (no can do, tick territory, the Poemas found three on Gordo just yesterday,) the afternoon sun made everything soft, even time escaping from under us.

A trailer with a view.

April 8, Mountain View, Arkansas (47 miles, fairgrounds.)

Back seat view.

April 7, Heber Springs.

What's beyond.

April 7, Heber Springs.

Zumba.

April 7, Heber Springs.

Yesterday I finally joined the zumba lessons Carolyn has been offering since we started in Brownsville.
We all danced to Lady Gaga in the Beef Barn.

Travel day.

April 6, Heber Springs.

Last year we had a party for Nicolas' birthday on this lot, and we were parked exactly at the same spot. Natalie was very pregnant, about to leave to give birth to Genevieve.
We moved ahead of schedule because no place could be arranged for us to set up in the previous town, so there are no shows today; it has morphed into a travel day, with its obligatory mechanical mishaps (Casey's transmission, snake show truck's brakes - at least I think so for I was behind it the last leg of the trip and its rear tires were smoking so bad every time he hit the brakes you'd have thought he had blown a tire; he kept leaving little skid marks, like punctuation along the road.)

A trailer with a view.

April 6, Heber Springs, Arkansas (139 miles, fairgrounds.)

A (new) trailer with a view.

April 5, Ozark.

Day off.

April 4, Ozark.

Easter.

April 4, Ozark.

Health update, with Easter bonnets.

April 4, Ozark.

Or rather a parking lot off the fairgrounds for the day, a day off for Easter as every year, with an egg hunt and an invitation to a restaurant for the whole show, as always. This year there was also an Easter bonnet contest (for adults and children alike.)
I took pictures but didn't take the kids.
Too bad, for Dylan especially, as this was the first year that he could have enjoyed it. He's been doing remarkably well, only feeling sick on Monday, when I took him in. Still I kept him in the first days for I was most concerned about Liam being exposed; by Thursday he was out and about again, as he had not been contagious for a while, if he ever was. We must be either eating well (thanks, Brian,) or I've been doing a good job at maintaining the family strong and healthy (pat on my shoulder, pat on my shoulder,) or the medicine really works.
Most likely a little bit of all.

A trailer with a view.

April 4, Ozark, Arkansas (57 miles, fairgrounds.)

Family update.

April 3, Greenwood.

A trailer with a view.

April 3, Greenwood, Arkansas (40 miles, fairgrounds.)

A trailer with a view.

April 2, Waldron, Arkansas (35 miles, Davidson park.)

Forgotten circus news update.

April 1, Mena.

We picked up Zefta and Renzo back in Hugo. They will be with us for the rest of the season.

Department of early art's development.

April 1, Mena.

Department of mechanical problems.

April 1, Mena.

The axle on Steve's trailer broke upon arriving onto the lot this morning.
Castro was called upon to do his magic - and did it.

Remembering Myrna.

April 1, Mena.

On this lot two years ago began the saga of Myrna.
Fridman just called her to remind her and see how she was. She asked about our new cook.

A trailer with a view.

April 1, Mena, Arkansas (51 miles, fairgrounds.)

Postponed festivities.

March 31, Glenwood.

No circus birthday party for Nicolas turning three today so as not to risk anyone else getting Dylan's flu.
Simple family photo-op in the trailer for now.

Vacancies.

March 31, Glenwood.

In the town of Daisy, population 118, the Daisy Motel had vacancies.

A trailer with a view.

March 31, Glenwood, Arkansas (58 miles, junction highway 70 and 70B West.)

Update on Dylan.

March 30, DeQueen.

Dylan is much better, and hasn't even had a fever (chocolate may have helped.) Still I don't want him near anyone quite yet.

Bloody scary.

March 30, DeQueen.

Somewhere near a church: "This bloods (sic) for you" with a ghastly rendition of Jesus of Nazareth.

Memories.

March 30, DeQueen.

Memories of our first year with Kelly Miller, in 2008, when DeQueen was the scene of a bad storm and tornado warning and flooding forced half the show's trailers to be moved as water rose to their door.
We are parked in the exact same spot, safe on high ground again.

A trailer with a view.

March 30, DeQueen, Arkansas (38 miles, fairgrounds.)

A bad day.

March 29, Ashdown.

We spent what felt like the whole day at a clinic twenty miles away in the nearest big town (there is a vet here but no pediatrician) to learn what I already knew: Dylan has come down with the flu.
I knew because he suddenly started coughing the same cough I had back in Florida, and then had abdominal pain. He even threw up with the force of the cough, just as I had.
He fell asleep on the way back and didn't awaken when we got home at last. All through this I could not stop thinking about our friend, and crying.
It has been a bad day all over.

Our friend.

March 29, Ashdown.

The devastating news of a friend's grave illness has me profoundly shaken and saddened.

A trailer with a view.

March 29, Ashdown, Arkansas (61 miles, school grounds.)

Views from backstage.

March 28, Idabel.

A trailer with a view.

March 28, Idabel, Oklahoma (42 miles, fairgrounds.)

Only I forgot the view.

Out-take (earlier this week.)

March 27, Hugo.

Back to base.

March 27, Hugo.

No radio and ninety miles to Hugo.
The exploding silence of the truck engine.
East Texas, straight roads, bumpy.
Half the circus goes in free, for circus people never pay to see another circus people's show.

A trailer with a view.

March 27, Hugo, Oklahoma (87 miles, old glove factory grounds.)

A trailer with a view.

March 26, Winnsboro, Texas (69 miles, City park.)

The usual suspects.

March 25, Whitehouse.

Same scenario as on Monday, only slightly less time spent sitting around in the truck waiting for word, as it a little before one in the afternoon and we are already parked.
There was a big storm last night, the usual suspected issues with flooded lots. Turned out good, we are on the shore of a pleasure lake and on asphalt, in case it rains again.

A trailer with a view.

March 25, Whitehouse, Texas (48 miles, RV park.)

Department of Texas town names.

March 24, Malakoff.

We drove through the town of Gun Barrel City without a scratch this morning.

A trailer with a view.

March 24, Malakoff, Texas (51 miles, Coal Miners Club.)

Signed into law at last.

March 23, Crandall.

My Mom sent me an email asking me to congratulate Barack Obama for her, with lots of exclamation points.
I just love my Mom.

A trailer with a view.

March 23, Crandall, Texas (36 miles, highway 175 and FM 741.)

More challenges.

March 22, Royse City.

After the snow the Kelly Miller Circus was faced with the threat of another day of canceled shows, the lot is a wet sponge and we can't set up, there is a mix up too with Chris directing people to the wrong place, and then hours of waiting while management decide to try and set up on the other side of the road, and then give up after two trucks get stuck in deep trenches of mud, there is more waiting around, town people stop by asking where is the show and where can we get tickets, and finally, at nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, we park in a race track down the highway, on a nice asphalt lot, and it's sunny and in the seventies.
But there is still more than an hour before show time and a mad rush to raise out of trucks and trailers the magics of a circus.
And they did it.

A trailer with a view.

March 22, Royse City, Texas (79 miles, at exit 83 on I-30 outside of Royse City.)

Snowman.

March 21, Frisco.

I woke Dylan up and we made a snowman.

Dawn.

March 21, Frisco.

More snow.

March 21, Frisco.

Snow.

March 21, Frisco.

And it snowed.
By morning three inches had accumulated. The tent could break and was taken down, the crew starting at three in the morning shoving snow off in an attempt to save the shows. They were canceled and we got the day off.
I had gotten up at seven to take pictures of what I thought would be moody shots of the solitary tent and ended up documenting the crew taking it down and struggling in the bitter wind, the material sticking to the mud underneath the snow, heavy with moisture. I got cold too, shooting with no gloves or warm boots.
Courtney arrived yesterday to officially buy the minivan from us (she's been using it since she left) so we went to lunch and then Ikea, where the kids had a great time.

Suddenly cold.

March 20, Frisco.

It's snowing.
How can it be so cold when it was balmy yesterday?
The wind is unbearably strong, it's simply miserable. It was going to be a fiesta, the last time we are in the same town for three whole days, Frisco the cool lot, and it's just miserable.

Little helpers.

March 19, Frisco.

Last.

March 19, Frisco.

We moved last night. The tire truck Fridman drives blew a tire and Lesley, the guy who drives the mechanics' truck, had gone way ahead of us, as he does every time, so we had to wait forever for him, until Fridman and Castro grew tired of waiting and looked in our truck and found what they needed to do the work and we could go on.
It was one thirty in the morning before we arrived, and we got parked in the dirt, not on the cement lot where everybody else is, "cast off" for doing our job, being the last ones to get to the lot.
As usual we're laughing it off.