DARWIN, Calif. — A little before noon on a recent Wednesday, residents of this improbable town halfway between Death Valley and Mt. Whitney gathered in front of the post office after the morning delivery.
For the last month their ritual has included tossing out campaign fliers and wondering how strangers can presume to know what's best for them. Today's conversation, however, turned on a friend who had just died and whether the road to the cemetery, rutted by August's rains, was passable.
Perched on a broad alluvial fan dotted with rabbitbrush and Joshua trees, this ragtag community of artists, misanthropes and urban refugees has little time for politicians.
