My own memories of the town remain those of a child.  Ennis reminds me of the farmers market, T-Kals, and the one grocery store, the Piggley Wiggley – it was emblazoned with a giant pink dancing pig.  Things like black-eyed peas, fat farm house tomatoes, my grandfather’s peach trees, full with orange butterflies, and the fear of scorpions dropping from the lamps, snakes striking in the fields, make up my memories of Ennis.  I remember my grandparents’ German Shepherds; they were great because they’d catch the snakes out near the fence, before they got near the house.  Snapping their bodies in half, the broken snakes would be carried and dropped off by the dogs as presents, Water Moccasins and Rattlesnakes, trophies left near their water bowls by the back screen door.  Ennis really seems much like any other small Texas town, still retaining various elements of the West, still very much alive, retaining a guaranteed possibility that there were still things that could get you.    

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