Cool Green Joy

After a month in Texas, I forgot how green and cool Pennsylvania can be in the summer. This morning I took my camera for an explore and this is what we found.

One tiny, battered butterfly/moth eating breakfast from a clover blossom. This picture is much larger than the little winged creature was in person.



The bumbly bees preferred chicory blossoms. They must have been looking for a coffee fix and found this alternative.



Queen Anne's lace was everywhere. Everywhere. I love its various stages. First are the whorls of tightly closed pink and white....



...followed by the beautiful snowflake like blooms. I want to cut and dry some to place on our Christmas tree this year.



But I think my favorite was this daisy, hugging the ground and underneath a group of Queen Anne's Lace. I remember my delight when I found them blooming in a highway median this Spring. I didn't realize they continued to spread their joy all through the summer.

Bicoastal?

Our 2009 marathon Texas vacation is just so many gigabytes memory on my portable hard drive now. You must be as sick of hearing about Texas as I am of the heat. (Did I tell you it was hot down there?) This will be the last blatant Texas entry for at least...a week. I will try to focus on other things (the Sprittles come to mind!), but there are so many pictures on that portable hard drive and you know what they say about pictures and words...

Here are a few things I learned about Texas (and myself.)

1. Walking is a good exercise only between the hours of 6am and 7:30am or 8pm and 9:30pm. Any other time of day you risk heat stroke or becoming a crispy critter. (I recall a conversation with Principessa about walking somewhere later in the evening when the temperature had gone down a bit. Her response was a long, loud laugh and "Mom, it doesn't get any cooler!")

2. A swimming pool helps you cope with the Texas heat. A new neighbor with a new pool is even better. A new neighbor with a new pool and a shared, unlocked gate is heaven. A new neighbor with a new pool, a shared, unlocked gate, and an open invitation is a saint (you know who you are!)



3. Raus' dry pencil sausage is addictive. (Principessa thinks crack cocaine is their secret ingredient.) Anytime of day, with a little string cheese. Yummo!

4. Cacti like to grow in strange shapes and places. I can't imagine how it got up in the branch of that tree (chased by an armadillo?)



5. Certain family members who live in suburbs of the big city (I will not use your name, iPodite) take offense at my depiction of life in Texas as being stereotypically wild and country as opposed to refined and cultured. May I go on record (as a big city girl gone country) that Texans are both.



(that last pic is of two sisters, who will remain nameless, posing as Terra Cotta Warriors after attending the Museum of Natural Science exhibit. Who says we ain't got class?)

6. I'm too 60something to be a rock band star, but not too 60something to keep me from playing rock band with my daughter and niece (Principessa and Mrs. Fer) into the wee hours of the morning. Can we say rock band hangover?



I must admit it was comforting to hear Principessa say that she, too, was feeling the after effects when she remarked, "I feel like I was hit by the tour bus!"

7. Coyotes howl at train whistles. Young coyotes howl at their parents because they can't keep up with the rest of the pack. (in my case, this coyote was howling to keep up with my younger peeps in the rock band.)



8. I never knew sage was so beautiful, or that butterflies and bees loved it so much.



9. A garden shop in Austin has the largest wind chime I've ever seen.



But that's because...



10. An African gray parrot at the same garden shop stole my heart.



11. So did a friendly pair of horses. *sigh*



12. Boredom can make me do even stranger things than usual.


"Frankly my dear, I don't give a dung beetle!"

13. I took WAY too many pictures in Texas. (note to self: enroll in a digital photography 12 step program IMMEDIATELY.)

14. I love my Texas family...

15. And I missed my friends in the Frozen North.

Does that make me bicoastal?

Boredom

When do you REALLY know boredom has set in? When your wonderful, college educated, brilliant daughter, sitting across the room from you, engages you in a conversation on Facebook that goes something like this:

Principessa--hello, Mommo
Mommo--you silly
Principessa--whatcha doin'?
Mommo--back AWAY from the ip[h]one

Hey, I was typing on a strange computer and very irritated that she was making fun of me TECHNOLOGICALLY.

It's bad enough when your adult children reach the age that they see you in the same category as dinosaurs, it's even WORSE when they use the internet to prove their point.

All I can say is, be nice Principessa, or we boomers will overrun Facebook with pictures of us in monokinis and thongs. THEN you'll be sorry!

(note--Mommo is the name by which I am known to my precious Sprittles who wouldn't even think of casting aspersions on my person. At least not for another 5 years.)

Kafka's Locust

If you've ever heard a chorus of locusts (would the plural be locii?), their deafening sound ringing through the air, then you already know that they are the Ethel Mermans of the bug world, in addition to plaguing Egyptians and Mormons. No, wait, I think it was grasshoppers that plagued the Mormons. I'll ask the next missionary duet that rings my doorbell at Iron Acres.

There are plenty of locusts in Texas. This is one Principessa found recently on one of our jaunts to a local herb garden. Sadly, he/she had succumbed to the heat. (Have I told you it's hot in Texas?)



When I was a little girl growing up in the big city and dreaming of country life, I would often discover the "shells" of a matured locust. We would have fun grossing out younger siblings (sorry, iPodite) by perching the fragile, but solid, shed skins on our noses. (Actually, I think iPodite took part in this as well, so I am retracting that apology.)

I found two "shells" a few days ago in the wilds of Washington County and imagined a conversation between them with the help of some movie dialogue you might recognize.

Just humor me, will ya? Our vacation's almost up, and there's not much else to do to pass the time here in the wilds of Washington County. We've done all we characteristically do each year--eaten too much Blue Bell Ice Cream and barbecue (the local delicacies), played too many hands of Phase 10 (my Dear Husband's sister's favorite game), and visited every relation in the county we can think of.



Of course, the local library display of graphic novels including one of Kafka's Metamorphosis had nothing to do with this, nothing at all. Nothing...at...all...



"As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!"



"Rhett, Rhett! Rhett, Rhett... Rhett, if you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?"



"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a dung beetle."

Biblical Proportions

It's confession time. I am a certified member of the couch potato society. I put the "couch" in couch potato. My body's natural state is at rest in front of a book, a movie, or the computer. If my body were as active as my mind is, I would probably weigh about 50 pounds. Let's just say I weigh more than that.

Let's just say I was born in the wrong era--I could easily have qualified as Peter Paul Rubens' star model.


"Venus at the Mirror" cropped for modesty's sake

Except I would have had a little trouble posing so scantily clad. And my hair used to be dark brown before it turned, ahem, "naturally frosted."

This is where Principessa comes in. Not only does she love art, but she's also fitness conscious. She encouraged me to get a pedometer and use it. (Principessa knows how to appeal to my genetic propensity toward gadgetry.) We have a friendly competition for the most steps in a day, every day.

But somewhere between the civilized streets and rivers of San Antonio



and the wilds of Washington County,



I misplaced my nifty gadget. I hope to find it when I unpack at home, but in the meantime I have no admissable evidence of my exercise. I could take a picture of the soaked bandana I wear(this one's dry, it's my "for show not for blow" bandana)



--a la Willie Nelson Rambo--everytime I walk in the evenings, but that would be gross and doesn't count. It does keep the run off from my head out of my eyes so I can determine if I am close to stepping on a snake as I rambo, I mean ramble.

I do dislike snakes. Principessa doesn't care for them much, either. And I make a pledge to you right now that because of my herpephobia(is that a word?) I will never knowingly post a picture of any of those slithery creatures on this blog.

So help me, Saint Patrick.

Now where was I? Oh yes, bandana. That bandana comes in even more handy here in Texas than in the summer heat of the Frozen North. Of course, the summer heat of the FN isn't even on the same scale as heat down here in Texas. In Texas, heat assumes Biblical proportions. In the Frozen North, heat assumes Rhode Island proportions.



Oh, by the way, did I tell you it's hot down here? How hot is it? It's so hot we had to install a quick and dirty soaker system to keep the liveoaks in the yard from drying up and keeling over stone dead. I saw a little lizard scurry toward one of the tiny emitter thingies and drink long and deep from his own little water fountain.

It's so hot and dry down here even the lizards are parched.

But in the name of fairness to all of Texas, I will admit that there are places where the lawns are green and well watered, the streets are paved, the houses are suburban, and the shopping choices are endless (as opposed to where we are in the wilds of Washington County and the choices are Walmart or the Dollar stores.)

iPodite, my baby sister who lives in one of those humongous urban metropolitan areas,  took objection to my portraying all of Texas as wild and wooly. Yes, there are pockets of New York City style civilization, and Babylonian style hanging gardens, but at its heart, Texas is wild.

At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Truckin' Texas Style

Texans do love their trucks. And they like them big. Do you have any idea what it is like to try to park between two Texas trucks? I'll tell you. It ain't easy (or for the faint of heart or depth perception challenged either!).

Here's an illustration using twin Toyota Tundras parked outside the local Blockbuster.



And this is what a normal car looks like parked on the other side of one of the Tundras.



See what I mean? You almost feel like a participant in a monster truck rally pulling up alongside one of these babies. Here's a curbside view of the suspension on an F250 looking up from Principessa's "humble" Toyota Camry. And this isn't even the biggest model Ford makes.



Texans take their trucks SO seriously that car manufacturers make special editions for the Texas market.

There's the King Ranch edition with the King Ranch brand logo (based on the desire for every Texan to own a piece of the largest ranch in Texas, even if its just a copy of the brand on the side of your pickup),



the generic Texas edition Ford,



and the Texrolet, sporting the Texas flag in the Chevy logo.



Now I ask you, do any other states enjoy the same sort of brand homage? Rhode Island? Iowa? Alaska? California? I think not.

Texas is just a whole 'nother country.

My guess is, if the government gets really serious about reducing carbon footprints and fossil fuel use, Texas will secede from the Union. Who's gonna argue with all those big trucks?

Did I mention they all come equipped with gun racks as standard equipment?

Too Bloomin' Hot!

Despite the fact that it's really hot down here(have I told you that before? *wink wink*) and we've had 42 consecutive days without rain, some flowering plants are still attempting to bloom. Our neighbor has a small garden of old Cecile Brunner roses that are pretty spectacular against the dust and prematurely brown liveoak leaves.



Of course, these dainty pink blossoms rely on irrigation provided by a quintessential Texas windmill. I love that windmill!



Outside my Dear Professor's sister's gate, is a magnificent cenizo or purplesage, a shrub that has attractive lilac flowers. At least, I think they are attractive, and the number of butterflies fluttering around them the day I took this picture seem to agree.



A few years ago, this big city girl was introduced to this plant on Daddy Britt's ranch in south Texas. I decided I'd like to transplant a small specimen to our yard in Houston. Daddy Britt, always a man of keen insight and few words(my Dear Professor comes by it honestly) invited me to go ahead and "try". Although it was a small plant, the roots went deep looking for water in a very dry country. It was like pulling teeth out of concrete, but I somehow managed. I think Daddy Britt found that very entertaining!

Last year I saw fields and fields of blue bells around here. The numbers were not as great this year, but that just made the blooms we saw even more special.



When I was a child, my sister and I would play with the trumpet vine flowers whose advancing tendrils harrassed the fence and tall pine trees around our home. She calls them "witchy fingers". Imagine the blooms perched upside down on our fingertips. "I've got you, my pretty! You and your little dog, too!"



What I miss most living in the Frozen North are the crepe myrtle trees that line the streets with beautiful, lacy bunches all summer long. They come in many colors--red, several pinks, and white. These were found on an overlook at a nearby lake.



I can't help but enjoy this weed that ranchers hate. It reminds me too much of its distant cousin, my favorite sunflower. These grow in waste places and on the lawn at the local Popeye's Chicken franchise. If you look, beauty can be found anywhere, even at a fast food drive through.



I think it's a tribute to Texas gardeners (and plants!) that they can produce so many wonderful blooms when it is just too bloomin' hot!

I love Texas Sunsets

I love Texas sunsets. That's not surprising. I love almost everything Texas. One of the exceptions would be the heat. Have I told you it's hot down here?

I love this reflection of the sunset I caught on the window to the well house a few days ago. The well house is a simple little shed that contains the pressure tank and electricity for the well pump. The water in our part of Texas is hard and "minerally" but not as "irony" as Iron Acres.


(looks like someone needs to paint their well house!)

Principessa and I drove to a nearby lake last week just before sunset. I love big bodies of water and how the sun reflects on them.



Last night, my Dear Professor and I sat outside and watched the sun go down together. I have mixed feelings about that time of day. The quiet and coolness is wonderful, but it also carries questions about the hours past. Were they lived well?



I love Texas sunsets. And I love sharing them with my Dear Professor even more.



And with you.

Texas Survivor

During our second week in Texas, while staying with Principessa in San Antonio, there was a weather advisory that anyone over fifty stay inside because of the extreme heat. Several days later we left Bexar County and travelled to a little place in the country near Washington County. It is hotter here than it was for the San Antonio weather advisory.

Being 60something and a decade over the weather advisory age, my Dear Professor and I have applied ourselves toward writing a Texas heat survival manual for the, ahem, over fifty crowd. This is a list of the bare essentials.

First, one should have a hat with a brim large enough to shade the eyes. A Texas flag bandana to accessorize is an optional addition.



Next, and extremely important, is water. I learned this summer from Principessa that a slight headache can be a symptom of dehydration. Needless to say, a water bottle has been my constant companion since that conversation. (A personal fan is a good option for those days you want to dash from the airconditioned house to the airconditioned car without needing another shower.)


You will find, to your surprise, that your new best friends are shade,



ceiling fans,



and a bandana.



Finally, in addition to being able to identify the four poisonous snakes (copperheads,cotttonmouths, corals, and rattlesnakes)native to Texas, be on the lookout for these little gems. They may be small, but grass burrs are very painful to bare feet.



Just as long as you stay cool, stay hydrated, and stay away from snakes and grass burrs, you will find your stay in Texas to be delightful.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Remember those lame essays we did at the start of elementary school every fall?  The ones entitled "What I Did Last Summer" or something along those lines?  And remember that old saying "a month of Sundays" that meant a lo-o-o-ong time?

Well, hunker down and fasten your seat belts.  We're almost at the end of our 2009 summer vacation in Texas, and I'm gonna tell you ALL about it whether you want to hear it or not.  Let's just call it a month of Texas.

Did I tell you it's hot down here?



Ahem. This is how I spent my summer vacation. I read books, and watched movies in cool, dark movie theatres (I'd really recommend UP!), and ate things I don't get to eat in Pennsylvania like really fresh mexican food and barbeque and Blue Bell Ice Cream, and didn't have internet access because we were in the country, and took pictures of clouds and storms and other stuff, and met with friends I hadn't seen in 30 years, and spent time with family, and sweated a lot.

That's how I spent my summer vacation. The short version. There's more on the way.

How about you?