Adventures in and Around Fort Worth

  By Jocelyn Tatum   I have an affinity for all things that cause me to look up — mostly trees and clouds. When I walk the dogs or go for a long run, I often trip over something because I am admiring tree limbs reaching toward the ever-changing clouds, or the way sunlight plays with both.    Komorebi is a Japanese word that doesn't have an English translation, which means the way light travels through the leaves of trees. I wonder if there is a word for the way light shines through the clouds. Fall Gallery Night 2019, I stumbled upon a magnanimous canvas of clouds with the sun piercing through. It knocked me back. I took a picture just to admire it from home but walked away knowing I would never allow myself to get it. A year later, it occurred to me that I still think about that art. The strange state of things and lots of extra time at home has encouraged me to do things I never thought possible. And I don't understand the correlation between the pandemic and my newfound imp

By Jocelyn Tatum  I n the 12 years that I have been going to Marfa almost annually, a lot has changed. But the small-town-in-a-vast-desert charm has stayed the same. Here are a few things I always plan to do in my two days and two nights in Marfa.  First, drive. I know it seems like it is far away, and it is, but this road trip goes fast because there is no traffic headed west and away from civilization. Driving is part of the right of passage to get there. I also feel like I shed the societal sludge that builds up on my shoulders as I careen across Interstate 20.  Once you turn off onto HWY 17 in Pecos, the drive starts to transition from sulfur and pumpjacks to pure beauty. It always reminds me of my road trip though the Scottish Highlands. My thoughts change with the landscape. Again, no traffic and no crowds. A tip: when you do pass a fellow road warrior once you get into the mountains, give them the friendly L-shaped finger wave the locals do there. Even the