adobe

tiilisavi

savitiili An unburnt brick dried in the sun.

Many people in Texas and New Mexico live in adobe houses.

“Find me a nice, clean adobe wall,” says he, “and send Senor Rompiro up against it.”

Stone sidewalks, little more than a ledge in width, ran along the base of the mean and monotonous adobe houses.

The Jawas mutter gibberish as they busily line up their battered captives, including Artoo and Threepio, in front of the enormous Sandcrawler, which is parked beside a small homestead consisting of three large holes in the ground surrounded by several tall moisture vaporators and one small adobe block house.

The Sangre de Cristos came into view and the first soft-cornered adobe houses, and that night we ate at La Fonda with my Aunt Elsie, who worked for the Indian Bureau, and had Hopi snake dances and San Ildefonso pottery-makers and Mabel Dodge Luhan in store for us in the coming weeks.