You Get A Line, I'll Get A Pole......

Daddy drove the car down the gravel road, the deep, loose gravel crunching under the tires. The tall trees hugged the side of the road leaving a thin slice of sky above us. We went deeper and deeper into the woods. I was starting to feel claustrophobic, although I didn’t know what that word meant at the time.


We weren’t sure where we were going or when we would get there. Daddy was taking us to a friend’s camp house on Horseshoe Lake in Louisiana. We would fish and spend the night there.


My memories of this trip are blurry. I’m not sure how old I was. But there are a few things that stand out in my mind, all of them creepy! 


The camp house had a wooden deck on the side near the lake. You had to walk out onto the deck to get to the bathroom. I remember I had to get up during the night to use the bathroom. It’s not clear in my memory if it was an outhouse or if it was just outside the house. 


As I walked down the deck I looked out at the lake. A bright moon shone and the lake was covered with duckweed in places, or “alligator water” as we called it then. And sure enough, there were what seemed like hundreds of pairs of alligator eyes floating on the surface of the water. The moonlight reflected off their eyes. The Spanish moss hung from the trees. A mist rose from the lake. I can see it even today in my mind. It was horrifying and beautiful.


I began to question whether I could “hold it” until morning, or did I really have to use the bathroom!


Earlier in the day we kids took a walk through the woods. We had gone a good ways from the camp house when we heard grunting and snorting noises. We stopped and looked at each other. A group of large wild hogs entered the open area where we were. Yikes! Time to make a hasty retreat. We ran in fear for our lives! We made it back to the camp house with everyone accounted for. 


Daddy used to love to fish. He often took us to scary “dangerous” places to fish. The boys were taught to cast and fish for bass. For some reason we girls only used cane poles and fished for bream. I guess he thought we couldn’t grasp the complexities of casting or maybe we didn’t show an interest. When I was grown up I wished that I had gotten to bass fish as it seemed like more fun and had more action.

Sometimes Daddy would take us out in the jon boat. We never had any other kind of boat that I remember. One time Kathy and I went out in a boat by ourselves and we had trouble trying to get back to shore. We only had paddles, which was ok since we didn’t know how to use an outboard motor, or any kind of motor for that matter. We kept paddling against each other and going in circles. Daddy stood on the shore and gave us instructions and waved his arms a lot, and we made it safely in but it was touch and go for a while!

I used to think I liked to fish. When people asked I said, sure, I love to fish! But when I went as an adult I found it boring. I had no patience for it. I wondered if I had gotten tired of it. I reluctantly admitted that I didn’t really like fishing. 


One day it dawned on me that it wasn’t the fishing I had liked, it was being with Daddy. In spite of the horrific places we went to and the phobias that I acquired from those places, I loved being out with Daddy. He would take me out in the boat and teach me how to put worms and shiners on my hook and how to gently take the hook out of the fish‘s mouth. When we got back with the bream, he taught me how to use a spoon to scrap the fish scales off, and how to cut the heads off and gut the fish. I asked him one time if it hurt the fish and he said, no, they didn’t have any feelings. I never have researched to see if fish have feelings, but I believed Daddy when he told me they didn’t. Because who wants to cut something's head off and know they are feeling it.


Mama would fry up the fish we caught. The bass were filleted but the bream were fried whole. If you were too little someone had to mash up your bream and remove all the bones before you could eat them. It was a tedious chore but we did it with patience, rubbing the meat between our fingers until it was so shredded there was no place for a bone to hide. We must have been good at it because no one ever choked to death on a fishbone!

Daddy has been gone for 6 years and we lost Mama a few months ago. We continue to have fish fries with the family gathered together. My brother Andy is the supplier of fish. He switched from bass fishing to saltwater fishing many years ago and always has a freezer of redfish and trout. He brings his equipment and fries them up outside, usually at my sister Kathy’s house or my brother Lee’s house. Those of us that can make it come and bring side dishes and desserts. He takes requests for fish fries, as he did for my daughter Sarah’s wedding shower and Kathy’s 60th birthday party. As we did growing up, the cousins join us when they can.


(Photos - Granddaughters Natalie and Lexi)

Our grandchildren don’t know about the fish fries we had growing up, when we would all catch fish for supper, and clean them when we were no bigger than the littlest of the kids now. And go out in the boat with our dad and learn how to fish. But my children have taught their children to fish. And the girls how to cast. And I hear tell they’ve even been to some pretty creepy camp houses to develop their own phobias. 






This website has a list of alligator eyes at night. You get the idea!
http://www.johnmoranphoto.com/fauna_001.html

Here's Your Sign!

I finally got the signs made for our outbuildings. Have been putting it off hoping my niece Esther would come by and I could talk her into doing it! She is the best sign maker! Mine are not the best, but at least we can direct someone to a building easier.

Used an old garden tool and iron star on this one. Hung it from an old green faucet handle.


The plow share and pitchfork came from Rickie's family place in Mississippi.

The pump house is the only building my husband lets me get close to with a bucket of paint! It is colorful. A couple of years of living in San Antonio and I was in love with the bright Fiesta colors! 


Attached a couple of old faucet handles and an old nozzle to the sign.








(Photo - pump house before the sign was added)

This was one of the first tools my husband bought many many years ago. 


I threw a handful of caliche dust on the signs to instantly age them. Haha! 

Cheaper Than Therapy

Rickie and I debated out loud the debate we have each been having in our heads. Is the harvest from our small garden worth the water and the time we expend on it?

On paper, no, it’s not. It’s so dry and even with our watering, the plants are not producing like they should. A late freeze damaged our tomato plants and we had to replant. It was by then too hot and we only got a couple of tomatoes before we had to pull them up. 

The few grapes we had this year were all eaten by the birds. We normally cover them with a net but there were so few this year we decided the birds needed them worse than we did.

We did get some good squash, onions, and some Crawford lettuce that was super! The birds are eating the new shoots and blooms on the pepper plants, which they have never done before. Rickie covered them with a net this weekend. We have a few watermelons that should be ripe soon and an early pumpkin that is turning orange. The other pumpkin plants and butternut squash plants are doing well.


Last year we had the best peach crop ever. This year we didn’t have a single peach. The two oldest peach trees are so stressed we may lose them. 


The fruit trees and vegetables and herbs are on a drip system that waters them every night at 2 am. It’s a very slow drip on our well and really only keeps them alive; they need supplemental watering or rain to prosper. 


There is the very real possibility that our well will run dry if we don’t get rain soon.  We live in a semi-dry area that normally gets about 25 inches of rain a year. We have had 6.9 inches since last July 4th. And getting out there on these 100+ degree days takes a toll on us.

We wondered aloud if we should pull up the garden this year and start again next year. We considered that maybe we should have directed all the water to the two old peach trees and let the few drought tolerant plants we have in the yard fight it out with nature on their own. We do have a rainwater harvesting system and it has been about half full twice this year so we have used that as long as it lasted.

The same debate was talked out about whether we should have gotten rid of the longhorns. Financially, that is an easy one. Of course, any reasonable person would have sold them months ago. We have been feeding them during this drought for a year now. There is not a blade of green grass for them to eat. Feed, coastal Bermuda hay, and alfalfa hay have gone up in price with the drought that extends outside our state.

But there is a harvest from the garden that can’t be calculated in terms of dollars and time spent. This morning I turned the news on as I drank my coffee. There was a high ranking church official being replaced because he helped cover up child abuse in the church. A media mogul, owner of newspapers and a major television network, is under investigation for his company hacking into the phone of a murdered girl, giving her parents false hope she was still alive, and bribing police officials. Politicians are acting like two years olds and won’t grow up and accept their responsibilities. Instead they stomp their feet and pout and call each other names while the military, retirees, and government and school employees worry whether they will get a check they earned so they can feed their families and pay their bills.


It turns a naturally optimistic and happy person into a tormented and angry human being. It makes me want to scream and smack someone! 

But I don’t have time for that. The garden needs watering and the longhorns need feeding. And that is where the true worth of them comes into play. It doesn’t take long working outside and caring for things until my mood is back to normal. I marvel at how things grow from tiny seeds and how they smell and the colors of them. I smile at Woodrow and Gus as they see me coming and stick their heads over the fence waiting for me to fill up the feed buckets. They have a routine too and after they eat they head for the shade of the cedar trees to just chill out.


Rickie and I come from a long line of farmers, loggers, small yard gardeners, and caretakers of animals. It is bred into us and taught to us to put our hands in the dirt and to care for living things. These are all part of living in the country, although we have had a small garden in most every place we have lived. They add a value to our lives that can’t be measured in money. They soothe our souls and keep us grounded in a crazy world that we have no control over. 

Mamow's Little Pitcher

When I was a little girl we lived in a duplex house with my grandparents on one side and us on the other. I spent a lot of time on my grandparents' side of the house. Mamow had a little glass pitcher in her fridge that she kept water in. It always had that refrigerator taste to the water, but I loved the little pitcher. It had a star design on the bottom.

I don't know what ever happened to hers but I looked for one like it for years every time I would go into an antique store. Once it was in a Kellogg's commercial with Tony the Tiger. I wrote to Kellogg asking where they got it, hoping I could order one. Surprisingly, they did reply to me and told me they used an ad agency and it was one of the agency's props and no one knew where it came from.

I finally found one after years of searching. It made the move to the little cabin as we have downsized. I don't keep water in it in the fridge but I always have that taste of cold refrigerator water in my mouth every time I see it or use it! And memories of my Mamow.

AND HIS MAMA CRIED.......

The last rain we had was over a month ago and that was only one tenth of an inch. We are in a record-breaking drought. The grass is not only dead, it is disintegrating and the yard and pasture has spots of powdery dirt where native buffalo grass grew before.


(Photo - triplet fawns from several years ago)

Deer are not really grass eaters; they eat the little “herbs and forbs” that grow in with the grass. Those things we call “weeds”. They are non-existent right now. They will also eat the young soft leaves of the oak trees. Most of our live oaks do not have many leaves, if any, this year. They dropped the old leaves like they do in early Spring each year but there was no rain so they didn’t leaf out completely. They fight for their survival by doing this. They never bloomed so there will be no acorns this fall, the food the deer depend on most to survive the winter.

I have two tiny native mesquite trees in a planting bed in the yard. They have been between 1 – 2 feet tall for years because the deer eat them as soon as they get any new leaves. I should just let them die but when I water the plants in that bed I water them so that the deer will have a tiny bite of something green.  One bite won’t keep anything alive, but I do it anyway because I can’t not do it.

We have been feeding our two longhorns for 11 months straight now as the grass died early last August and we have not had any since then. They only have what we feed them, although earlier when the little white oaks were leafing out they nibbled on them. All over the property you can see broken cedar branches where they have gone up under trees to get the last of the green grass that grows there.

We throw a bucket of corn out every day for the deer. It is only a treat as there is not enough nutrition in it to keep them alive and there are about 8 to 12 deer that come out to eat it.

We have more birds this year than ever and we feed them at 4 stations. We feed milo to the many Rio Grande turkeys we have. They come into the yard every day for water and to eat any birdseed on the ground. The turkeys have not had any babies this year and the hens have already regrouped together like they do when they are not nesting or raising their babies. Nature at work again keeping the eggs from hatching. A little moisture is needed to keep the eggs viable, and there has not been any, not even in the humidity, or lack of.

We have 3 water troughs and they draw the wildlife in. Years ago we noticed that an armadillo could not reach the water so we added a stone step so that the short animals could get to it. We have watched them climb up on it to get to the life-sustaining water.

(Photo - the tall grass from several years ago is gone now)

We put leftover lettuce and greens out for a little cottontail that lives somewhere close. A few times we turned the sprinkler on a little area of the yard hoping to green the grass up so the cottontail and the jackrabbits would have some green to eat. But we are on a well and it is a drought so we have to be careful with the water. When I am watering the garden and the couple of xeriscaped planting beds I have I spray some on the buffalo grass by the garden gate hoping to keep it alive until we get rain so that  it doesn’t disappear entirely.

We have seen several pregnant does this year. Most have aborted the babies already. When conditions are so dry and inhospitable to life this is Nature’s way of keeping the mother alive for another year. 

(Photo -  Doe and fawn from a year when grass was high)

Last night I was looking out the front window and a mother with newborn twins came out of the wooded area by where we throw the corn out. The twins had just been born. They were so tiny and she was still licking them to clean them from the birth. They walked on wobbly legs and one even broke into a little run. They were beautiful. The mother looked weak and her legs seemed to wobble more than the fawns. She kept the babies by the protection of the trees.

I marveled at the wonder of birth and my heart soared to see that she had triumphed over Nature’s harsh practicality and had kept and delivered her babies.  And at the same time I cried to think of the prospects she and her babies had. Odds are that she won’t have any milk and the babies will die before they even get a chance to live. Or she will starve to death as the babies drain every bit of nourishment she manages to take in. Then the babies will die of starvation. If they can make it to the weaning stage, which is months away, and she dies, another doe will usually allow them to hang around her and she will help protect them from predators.

This morning I looked out the kitchen window and the little doe that hangs around the yard a lot was browsing trying to find some plants to eat, even if they were dead. A tiny pine siskin bird was at her heels following every step and turn she made, hoping she stirred up a tiny bug or two. It looks like the little yard deer is pregnant still. Her hide is darker than most of the other does and last year she stayed in the yard a lot, not running off very far when we went outside.  She knows to go behind the hay shed and see if there is any alfalfa on the ground from the bales we feed the longhorns and that is where she was headed.

And if there’s one thing that she don’t need, it’s another little hungry mouth to feed………..

I will be watching to see if we have another little fawn soon. This would be her first baby. The odds will be against this baby also. But sometimes, even against all odds, life survives. And the moms will fight against Nature and against every hardship that comes to their babies. And sometimes they will die so that their babies might live. They don’t do this as we might, by thinking about it. The gift or burden of reason is not theirs. They do it instinctively and never give it a thought.

I am cheering you on, moms and babies. 

And I’ll throw out a little more corn and drop a little more alfalfa behind the hay shed. 

In the Garden

The garden is really taking shape now! We have already harvested squash and onions. The watermelon vines have tiny watermelons on them. Can't wait!

Rickie found two pumpkin seedlings that came up where we threw out some old pumpkins last year. He dug them up and moved them to the garden and they are growing. He will plant the rest of the pumpkins in their alloted row next week.


The grapes are pruned and looking good. Since we won't have any peaches this year (the drought hit them hard), the grapes are our only hope for jelly! And maybe a little wine. 

Our blackberries are in their second year. We may get a dozen berries this year! Life is hard for blackberries in our area. The Arapaho is doing better than the Navajo. 


The Maximilian sunflowers are coming up, which puts me in the mind of Autumn even though we just hit Summer! Papa always had a row of sunflowers in our garden when I was little. I always think of him when the sunflowers bloom. He was the first person to instill in me a love of gardening. He was a stern and a practical man, not really sentimental, but I took note of how he added flowers to the vegetables. His daughter, my mother, taught us how to shell peas, preserve figs, cook fresh corn in a skillet, and process and preserve the bounty from the garden.

I planted an old wheelbarrow with some plants that I hoped would like the climate, which is to say could live in a place hotter than hell! They are looking out over a metal hen and baby chicks, a gift from my sister Jackie to my husband who wants to get some live chickens one day. Until then he can enjoy seeing these easy care ones!

It's been a busy month at the ranch. Besides getting the garden going, I tried my hand at masonry work. It was my first attempt. I learned a lot and did a few things wrong but fortunately I like the rustic look! I stoned in around the garden shed. A few weeks before Rickie and I had added a hay storage lean-to on the garden shed. I am happy with how both the hay storage and the masonry work came out. My knees are happy that I have finished that work for a while!

We have had so many birds around the garden and the cabin the last few weeks. Painted Bunting, Scott's Oriole, Summer Tanager, Cardinal, Blue Grosbeak, Ladderback Woodpecker, House Finch, Lesser Goldfinch, and Hummingbird are some of the ones showing up at the feeders. The turkeys are still hanging around, a group of 4 mature hens and another group of young hens born last year. A couple of gobblers. And a few buzzards that come in and look for food scraps and drink at the water trough every day.

Each morning I feed the longhorns, fill the bird feeders with seed and the birdbath with water, grab a cup of coffee and head to the garden to see how it is doing. I love the garden. I walk among the plants and see how they are coming along; my grandfather and my mother walk beside me.

And the joy we share as we tarry there none other has ever known.

The Real Cost of Fresh Produce

Last night we watched a segment on 60 minutes about children as young as 12 years old working in the farm fields. I sat in my chair and cried.

These kids worked alongside their fathers for 10 to 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. They did this in the summer when they were out of school. They were not illegals. Their families were poor and this was what they did to help them buy food and clothes. 


They were not spending the money they made on iPods or going to the mall to buy $100 shoes and jeans. They were not even going to the movies with the money. The family together, a father and 2 sons, one son 16 and one son 12, made a total of $10,000 for the summer. This was half the family income for the year.


I have been working outside in the sun a lot lately. And not just the planting of flowers that some people would consider "yard work". I've been doing masonry work, and building storage sheds, and hauling hay for longhorn pets, and shoveling poop and dirty hay. Not for 10 hours a day. For maybe 4 and this is interspersed with breaks on the back porch under the fan, with a cool drink. I am not young. When I was young I spent a lot of time outdoors. I did the mowing on 2 acres we lived on. I did all the outside yard work, including a garden and tended to 3 horses with the help of my sons. I painted the exterior of my father-in-laws house in the summer heat when I was 7 months pregnant. I was strong and healthy and considered myself a hard worker. Even then I could not have hoed weeds in a field under the blinding sun for 10 or 12 hours a day.


The fathers and their sons lived in migrant housing that they had to pay for. The walls did not connect to the floor. The stove was rusted and the whole thing was in worse shape than the little travel trailer we used for a house at our ranch for 15 years, and that would have been considered substandard housing even for a hunting camp. It took all the money the father made to pay for the housing and food to support them as they worked away from home. The money the boys made was what was sent home for the rest of the family to live on.


The faces of the young kids was what made me cry. They were not whining and complaining about having to do this.They said they were doing this to help their families. Their skin was dark like my son Larry and grandson Anthony. They had the same open smile and happy eyes that Larry and Anthony had when they were this age. I saw my kids in their faces.


Their fathers wanted them to go to college and break the cycle of 5 generations that had done this every summer. The boys were very confident they would. Even though the high school drop out rate for migrant workers is many times higher than the population as a whole.


I think summer jobs are good for kids and I think that lots of kids today don't know how to work and don't care to. Every little injury at a ball game is made into a drama by the coaches and the parents. The things that make a child strong and grow up into an adult with "gumption" are not always taught to kids and we do them a disservice. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about working 12 year olds 70 hours or more a week in the blazing sun.


We sometimes don't want to buy meat due to the inhuman treatment of animals that are processed for food, and I understand that. Maybe we ought to also consider the inhuman treatment of children when we are buying fresh vegetables.

"Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?"