June 27th
Another wonderful soul satisfying day which has been long and I am weary. The cemetery is there which you would never know with all the trees and the nice fence, but otherwise neglected and in bad repair. Many graves are not marked and oh so many of the old ones broken and pushed over. We got pictures of the Hurst monument with us by it, and it is big—the largest one in the cemetery. George has, to his own satisfaction, spotted Grandpa Terrys, Aunt Laurie’s and Naties, though he says Grandpa did not (I mean Dad) agree with him, but we had our pictures taken by the three and claimed them.
Buzzard Flat is just beautiful. It should not be called so now since it is planted with soya beans and corn as far as the eye can see, with beautiful wells of water pumping onto the ground… a far cry from the dried up well and the dead cows. There are great orchards--peaches, pears, apricots, green and glorious. We meat the son of Sister Longhurst who has been a Bishop for a long time, not now, who told us that the Old Hurst farm, meaning our Buzzard Flat Farm was being part of the Church Welfare farm. What about that? We went to Romney’s farm. There again, all vegetation, under cultivation and fenced in. Old houses are all gone, one or two Mexican houses are left but we couldn’t get down to the ponds nor the river. Bowmans store, as well as their big home is gone. Haymore’s store is there but not being used, sort of boarded up. We even went down the track to the old Farnsworth place where the Johnson boy was sick and we felt called upon to visit his funny little grandma way up stairs, but that house too is no more.
We went back to our little house again for our last stop and had pictures in front of the fire place. We went to
Colonia Juarez and were shown through the academy which was nice. I had never been there. When we got back we went to the Uncle Charl’s place where we were living at the time of our departure from these parts. It hadn’t changed so much only it is a flat top and white. The pump is gone but the well is still there. Chandler’s big house is gone with a Mexican adobe affair in its stead. Yes it is more a Mexican town even with many of the big houses still standing. Now at this time I am going to bed at out Pinon Motel in Casas Grandes, which joins Dublan, no break between. We plan to go to Chihuahua City in the morning so you will be hearing from me again tomorrow night. All of this has made me feel very close to you.
June 27th (Yes, there are two dated the 27th)
We are at an old but very beautiful Hotel in
Chihuahua. It has a Motel added too, but we are in the Hotel which I like better. The wide stair cases made of tile and fancy iron railings. The gardens and everything make me feel like I am in a make believe world. Our trip down was uneventful, went through much country which was bare and dry as we remember Buzzard Flat. However, before we actually left Casas Grandes and Old Casas, we took a tour of the Cases Grande ruins. We were on our own, but we wished afterwards that we had hired a guide. It was so big and different to mesa Verde, but truly Jacob was right, “At one time this country was covered with a vast amount of a great population.” We went by Galeana, a rather large Mexican village, where, as you know, there is a colonia of the Polligimists but they seem to be apart quite a way to the west and we didn’t feel free to drive over to look. I wanted to though. One thing which I had never heard of was the big colony of Mennonites. I had always thought of them as in and around Pennsylvania, but there they are in their saved and sanctified conditions. Of course we talked to no women but the men all talk Spanish. We did find one man at their big store and warehouse who spoke enough English to get by. We bought some of their cheese for which they are noted and soma cold drinks. We were surprised to see some of them smoking cigarettes. Of course, we had no way of knowing if every one we saw were Mennonites. We saw women in long dark dresses, long sleeves, high necks and wide brim hats, passed several in a horse drawn buggy like they were going to “town for fun”. Some had sort of colored shawls about their shoulders. We passed one or two sedate couples, each in a buggy, some with one horse, some with a team, but all in the same somber attire and wide hats—both men and women. I noticed that they do use some machinery such as trucks and tractors. As we drove away in our car, Caroline in a pants dress looking like a 16 year old, I in a pants suit, no hats, etc., etc. Two big boys, I should say at least 17 or 18 stood in the back door where they had been unloading a truck of flour and grain, we all thought they looked a bit wistful, but who knows—maybe it was a look of pity on the sinful folk who had come their way that day.
After we checked in, we had dinner at a very lovely café in the Hotel. Everyone was gracious and helpful, there was always someone who spoke enough English so there was no problem. After dinner we took a little walk, but there was a different feeling. There were little cards and stands all along the sidewalks—food being served without benefit of sanitation…seemed like mostly kids and teenagers out for a good time. A big picture show house with coming out and going in, but you knew they were watching us and were certainly strangers in a strange land and we were glad to get back in our room. Francis has bought tickets for a three hour tour in the morning. We found out that train trip over the mountain would take two full days and Francis just can’t be gone that long. Caroline says we will do it next time, but somehow I feel that I shall never pass this way again. Good night now.
This pictures gives you a sample of the height of these bottle. 
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