Spring

by Ryan Versaw

The pursuit of the earth to call their own business and the desire to make money that will be expelled from us seems to be the best Spring in Pagosa. This is a unique moment in the heat that basks all in the sun's light, for green stems sprout from the gardens near Rock Ridge Mobil Home Park, but the blooms are still coming. The San Juan River flows over the pools of the hot springs, and the current is higher than the comfort of people that will soon arrive to raft and fish. Business and the breath of daily life have not changed for most people living here.

As I walked past a gaping hole in the earth designed to make way for a box culvert, I saw a construction crew comprised of people from several towns. Still, the only place relevant to me is where they work, which is in Pagosa Springs. A girl from Cortez holds a stop sign on a post and asks me about the casino, and I inform her that she should not gamble. Further down the hill, I see Dakota Rinehart of Durango, Colorado, sitting in a truck and waiting for her shift. Dakota is the break flagger for the crew hired to flag for the construction site working on the culvert that diverts water from the creek to the San Juan River. The company name is not important. The People are here.

Dakota came to Pagosa to work and reported that people are more friendly here in town than here at home. All that is less than friendly goes right by with each passing car, according to Dakota. Other than upset drivers, Dakota encounters little animosity toward her or her work. I asked if there was any opposition to the disheveling of soil and rock or the environment, and she said only from the facial expressions of people driving by. She referred directly to her work when asked what she wanted the people here to know about her.

"I am friendly and a hard worker," Dakota said.

Her brother and supervisor, Thomas Rinehart, walked toward me while I stood near the intersection at the center of the backhoe site. Thomas notes the usual actions of people driving through town on San Juan Street, from driving while looking at cell phones to gestures of vulgarity.

When asked how he felt toward the People, he was happy, even while describing the way. People act from their car toward the people walking or standing. People are looking at every part of the world aside from the road while moving along the highway. Thomas indicated that he wished people would care about signals and signs meant to direct or prompt people to slow their vehicles down.

"I wish that people would pay more attention to signs," Thomas said.

The work by Backhoe has so far turned up soda bottles, horseshoes, tires, and steel. Layers of dark soil, light sand mixed with mud, light rock, and heavier dark rock, in succession from top to bottom, are visible from the sidewalk provided to pass the construction site. I asked if he found any bones under the earth while digging. While he did not, Thomas told me there was once a butcher shop at the bottom of the hill north of the highway. Thomas reported that drivers were angrier in Durango than in Pagosa. During the past couple of years, Thomas has tried to do his job for the good of people.

"We are just here to keep everybody safe," says Thomas.

Construction of the culvert will continue until June.

At the overlook of the San Juan River, near a picnic table where many newly arrived gather, Greg from the Dallas area of Texas sits while waiting for his wife. Greg sits near the river and describes how quickly another husband and wife met him and announced their newly purchased property in Pagosa Springs. The couple recommended the Independence Day Parade of the Fourth of July, which will ensure travel on foot is slow and cumbersome for another several hours. Word of Pagosa seemed to come from people who had recently moved here from other states and now call this town their home.

I walk up the street to a park across a field from the junior high school that I love and meet Kim Hodges, a local girl buying fruit from a truck loaded full from a local farm. Ruth Ellie of Farmington, New Mexico Sits near the park with a truck loaded with Oranges, Grapefruit, Tangelos, and Pecan nuts from a family farm in Mesa, Arizona. While Ruth was reluctant to disclose the name of the farm or the owner to me, she did tell me that she sells fruit every year and comes in December, which is the beginning of the harvest for fruit such as Grapefruit and Oranges in Arizona. Ruth tells me that she returns Pagosa every summer and hikes around the mountains. While carrying succulent Oranges from a place that I love and a family farm that I know, Ruth sits near a place that is the heart of downtown. The words of Ruth are imbued with the story of more that she has to tell Me as if she came to Pagosa to do more than sell Oranges. Still, she has fruit for me.

"I am just doing a little housekeeping before I hit the road again," says Ruth.

As I eat an Orange from her truck, I think of a tree in the yard of my grandparent's house in Fountain Hills, Arizona, where I ate Grapefruit yearly.

Near the river the following day was Rachael Devloo, watching her son ride rollerblades along the river trail.

Rachel's massage business is a major draw, and her reaction to waves of people in the Summer months is happy.

"I like to feel the pulse when people come to town," says Rachel.

On the same trail, I see Bobby Tuller, who has resided in Pagosa for many years. Spring is described by Bobby as relaxing as he sips coffee at the Root House Coffee Shop down town. Other than a girl from Europe, a family from France, and many more people from many more towns, Bobby has seen mainly family here in this place called Pagosa. His sights are set on a house of his own and money to be made.

"I am trying to Land a house," says Tuller with aspiration in his tone.

As I walk back up the hill to the Rock Ridge Trailer Park, I think of the gushing river flowing over the hot spring pools. Green sprouts come from gardens, and the blooms will be here soon. Tufts of snow are under some pines, and there is at least a month before summer is here, and people come in droves. While the world heats up, the mountains are illuminated, and more people will come. For now, the town that I Iove is still here.