Wilmer and I have just returned from Alpine. He had occasion to try a case in Marfa, Texas. The courthouse there throws one back into time. A huge, Victorian, spiraling staircase erect but swirling up – up and up. The courtroom commodious, last century with tall windows up in the trees: This was the fine business reason for my traveling westward. My reason was a new grand-daughter. Her brother Philo, a wonderful Italian angel image, jestful, unrestful and [as] square as a wedge. His new sister delicate as a fine teacup and as ladylike. Mother Barbara, a red-headed sweet, as untouched by pregnancy as though babies were air blown rather than animal birthed.
But poor Grainger -big beautiful, falcon riding on his wrist – His eyes steel blue and hurt. Asthma riding him like a cat on his back. And after none for four years. He caught a virus riding 400 miles and back from Padre Island to trap birds: He’s writing his master’s thesis for graduation.
Barbara’s dear, life-long friend Linda Paterson came all the way from California for the birth and has remained to take full charge of Philo and help cook. What beautiful kindness she has bestowed.
I tried to paint – no room – Wilmer and I went up the Fort Davis Canyon and I attempted to sketch the gold cotton woods marching up the dry, white peppered creek bed and rimming the rocky foothills. But nothing would work.
Sunday. Christened the sweet, girl in a tiny windowed room at the Catholic church. Grainger in a blue suit – was beautiful and I loved hm. Wilmer held the baby and looked beatific! All the young girls Barbara and Linda and Mary Kendall and some other your thing were darling.
Afterwards we had champagne at the Gate to Heaven and Tede Brown DeBarbarie came over, and she is an inspiring person. I must have time for her when I go back.
The pries was Italian, and he read the service in broken English – and Philo looked like those wonderful Florentine children I saw when I was 19 in Italy [1929] – 2one34rul, robust urchins!