Texas — The Rio Grande Valley

After hundreds of miles of lonesome roads, we came upon a fertile valley, a series of small and large towns strung like pearls on a necklace — the Rio Grande Valley, way down at the southern tip of Texas.

The average high temperature here for the winter months is around 70°, which we found hopeful, but we experienced wide swings every few days, from the fifties to the eighties. It all depended on which way the wind was blowing, whether we got cool, dry air from the north, or warm, most tropical air from Mexico.

The valley is a major winter destination for Midwesterners — most of the license plates we saw were from Minn, Wisc, Ill, Iowa, Kansas, and Missouri — and Midwesterners are greeted with signs of "Welcome Winter Texans!" There are lots of RV parks here competing for winter visitors with heated pools, Jacuzzis, and free WiFi Internet. I enjoyed the variety of restaurants, from national chains to local cafes serving Texas barbecue. We were glad to have the benefit of large supermarkets and major retailers we hadn't seen in weeks — the likes of Barnes & Noble, Best Buy, and Home Depot. Being in this welcoming valley among friendly Midwesterners felt good, so we lingered there for a month.

It was in our RV park there that Menominee climbed a tree for the first time. She felt frisky one warm night, out late under a full moon, and right before my amazed eyes she jumped up on a tree trunk and climbed it to the first branch, high above my head. She seemed quite unfazed, as if she climbed trees every day, but I worried how to get her down. I had no ladder; where could I borrow a ladder late at night? Then I waited a while and what do you know, she got bored and came down, all by herself, with a modesty that belied her achievement.

I researched UU churches and found two congregations, one each in Brownsville and San Juan. I went to the one in Brownsville one Sunday and liked the minister there. Next Sunday I went to the other one and was surprised when I walked in and saw same minister, who turned out to work half-time in each church.

Brownsville was the southernmost point of our adventure, 26 degrees of latitude, which is south of everything in the continental U.S. except the tip of Florida. That's 30 degrees (or 2,000 miles) south of our northernmost point in Canada, last August.

From here, of course, we headed north.