A Morning Walk

           What a beautiful morning for a walk, and what a lovely road!  Here in northeast Texas only an hour or so from Oklahoma, some of the land is flat, and some is just a little hilly. I say hilly, but that’s not quite true.  It’s more that the land rises and falls a bit here and there, just enough to be noticeable.

             I walked down a narrow road bordering the farm where I'm staying this week, amid a chorus of birdsong:  Blue jays—how I love them!  They’re familiar and saucy and brilliant blue.  Cardinals are everywhere.  I rarely see them, but I recognize their song and look for them in the treetops.  Then there’s the meadowlark, that sweet song bringing me back to Colorado, where I fell in love with them.  Finally (but not all) the lovely song of the mockingbird.  I hear them all the time; today I got to see one.  I had expected a plain bird, like brown thrashers, catbirds, and some other mimics (family name Mimid), but they’re actually quite pretty, with their long tails that open into startling white and grayish-brown stripes and their flashy wing spots.  It’s no wonder they’re the state bird of Texas.

 

If I hadn’t known I was still in Texas before, I would have known instantly when I came upon a small herd of longhorns.  I had thought Longhorns were rare, but I’ve seen them almost everywhere I’ve been in Texas.  I’m not sure of this, but I suspect they’re the perfect grass-fed, grass-finished beef, or perhaps there's just an increased interest in preserving this uniquely North American breed.

I walked for a little over a mile, then reluctantly retraced my steps. I love that I’m up to over two miles a day now.  My ankle is strong and my stamina is increasing daily.  On the way back, I spied a stand of spring flowers that I hadn't noticed earlier.  It's been raining hard, and this morning was a respite, but to see the loveliness that God puts before us lifted my heart even more.  Truly, life is good.

 

Exploring Texas

           Life has a funny way of throwing unexpected things your way.  So it was when I decided to leave my second wwoofing farm. My next stop was a farm in Weatherford, about a half hour west of Fort Worth. I knew my friend Rose came to Texas in the winter to visit her brother and his wife, and I thought, “Well, maybe she’ll be coming soon and I can see her before I leave Texas.  With a little luck, maybe it’ll even be within a reasonable distance.”  With that in mind, I messaged her on Facebook and discovered that she was already in Texas, immediately outside of Fort Worth!  How cool was that!

 

           I got an immediate invitation to come by, and to stay the night.  I ended up staying two nights before I drove off to Springbox Farm.  Rose and I were joking this morning that we’ve seen more of each other in Texas than we did in Maine! 

Rose and me.  The best of a poor set of selfies!

 

 

           Springbox Farm is small, about 16 or 17 acres, just starting up.  My tasks include taking care of chickens, ducks, geese, and rabbits, and scratching the necks and heads of two donkeys and two dwarf goats.  Sunrise comes late here, almost 7:00, so it’s quiet and cool when I go out.  No matter how quiet I am, though, they know I’m coming and eagerly await the “escape from confinement”.  The rabbits, alas, have to stay in their cage, which is large and two deckered, but when children come, they get to run around the outdoor pen or snuggle against a delighted child.  Charlotte is a therapist, working with children with autism and other neurological problems, and the farm provides a serene, safe place where chaos ramps down.  Animals are good for the soul.

Cocoa was an occasional guest in my little trailer.

After checking things out inside, Cocoa surveys her domain.

            You can tell we’re in Texas, cattle country.  The land was purchased from the neighboring longhorn ranch, and barbed wire is everywhere.  Last week I spent several hours removing it from T-posts and stacking it up. 

7 Acres of prairie, divided by barbed wire, soon to be replaced by something different.

It was hard to get the barbed wire to behave, but stacking it in a pile made it manageable.

Believe it or not, the greenbriar was much more problematic than the barbed wire, though!  That stuff is nasty!  Barbed wire is well-behaved, staying where it’s attached until you remove it, and giving up during the process.  The greenbriar, on the other hand, is a wild child, grabbing and seeking and scratching whenever it can.  I swear I can hear it chortle as it nabs me unexpectedly--pant legs, jacket, arms, hair!  It doesn't stay put on the ground, either.  It climbs above and reaches down when you're not looking. I was surprised to find it’s in the Malvaceae, the mallow family.  Who’d have thought such a grabby vine could belong to the same family as the lovely hibiscus!  I was surprised to read, though, that this plant is very tasty.  There's a silver lining to every cloud.

 

           I’ve had time to go for some long walks and have explored several places on foot that I’d never have thought to go in a car.  Walking lets me see a different place than I would in a car.  Instead of zooming by, I notice things like tall prairie grass and how the fences are built differently, little things that give the flavor of the area.  I love traveling!

There are still some stands of wild prairie grasses.  They are surprisingly tall!

When you compare the height of the grasses to the trees, you can see just how tall they are.

Some fencing is just two feet apart, the posts from a local cedar, very hard.

 

WWOOFING!

           After I left Florida, I headed to Alabama for my first wwoofing assignment.  I was so excited!  I knew they’d had freezing temperatures a week before, but I was sure that was a fluke and it would be warm and balmy. It didn't turn out that way, this being "an usually cold winter."  I can't tell you how many people remarked about how much colder the weather is than normal.  I'm a New Englander.  I can handle it.  It did seem rather ironic, though, that I'm 1000 miles away from Maine and on some days it was warmer in Belfast than in the South.

 

            First stop, Marion Junction, Alabama.  Spencer Farm is just outside of Selma.  What memories that name brought!  Bloody Sunday, marches on the capital, Martin Luther King, the accusations in the press that he was a communist. (Why?  Because he marched?  Did they think Ghandi was a communist, too?)

 

            The accommodations for the wwoofers were good, but surprising—co-ed bunk rooms.  That didn’t work for me as a Christian, but the gardener’s cabin was vacant so I was able to bunk there and join the others in the bunkhouse for meals and socializing.  The Spencers provided our groceries and we prepared breakfast and lunch for ourselves.  Monday through Friday we had dinner with Chip and Laura, and were on our own for the weekends.  It was cold!  Neither we nor they expected such cold weather, and the wood stove ate a lot of wood but didn’t put out much heat.  Even so, I enjoyed my time there immensely.

The common room, where we played cards, talked, and socialized.

Kitchen area. Everything we needed to make ourselves at home.

         

            Chip Spencer is a technical farmer.  By that I mean that he looks for the numbers on everything—protein requirement for his livestock and how best to mix the feed to get that, how best to bring his animals to market weight and yet not use commercial feeds, how the diesel turbo works and why it’s important to throttle the engine down before turning off the engine, what the angle of the sun is on the greenhouse and which location best takes advantage of that year round. He researches everything, calculates everything, and seamlessly turns toteaching mode whenever something new to the wwoofers comes up.

 

I learned a lot from him, and from Laura as well.  She grew microgreens for market and I worked in the greenhouse harvesting with her a few times.  There's a lot more to growing microgreens--and the proper way to harvest them--than I'd ever have thought. Laura also taught the wwoofers how to make soap.  I’m so glad I waited for a tutorial.  She went through the process piece by piece and emphasized just how caustic lye can be.  I wonder if I’d have been that careful had I done it on my own the first time.  At the end of the tutorial, we had several bars of soap to cure and take with us.  We all traded soaps, for we'd all chosen different scents.  Soapmaking is something I'll definitely pursue later.

 

The Spencers also made sure we got to the Selma Interpretive Center to learn more about the local history.  As I watched the film about the brutality that took place there in the 60's, I found myself emotionally back where I was when I first watched the reports on television, shaken and emotionally bruised at man’s inhumanity to man.  I wonder if things have really changed much.  Now we as a nation attack Muslims, always finding justification for our prejudices.  If we don’t learn to see others as our brothers, how will they ever see us that way?  If we don’t extend the hand of love, instead attacking, beating, and bombing, why would we ever expect anything but hatred in return?  We used to call ourselves a Christian nation, yet now we have denials by those in high places that we should identify ourselves that way. 

 

Truly, many things we’ve done as a nation are anything but Christian in nature.  That’s not to say that we haven’t done many things that Christ would approve of.  Condemnation of religions because of things done in the name of Christ or Allah overlooks the good done in their name, and there is much good.  We have to take off the blinders and see the whole picture.  The trouble with war (and we are a warlike nation) is that in order to justify it, the “enemy” has to be dehumanized.  They are kikes, and ragheads, gooks, spics, slant-eyes, krauts, gringos, all names designed to make us forget we're brothers and facilitate the killing, looting, and carnage. What a waste. 

  

And then there was the Birmingham Botanical Gardens.  It was, admittedly, pretty cold while we were there, but the tour was fascinating and all my love of botanizing came back in a rush.  

Japanese Garden at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens.

Three other wwoofers were there during my stint, Luke, who came from Virginia, and a couple from Belgium, Liam and Judith. I enjoyed them immensely.  Luke and I had some animated theological discussions, Judith and I worked together in the greenhouse and the garden, and Liam fished and cooked his catch. 

Judith and I worked together on the raised beds.

 Our guide. Every evening as we walked to the house for dinner, Midnight would show up and lead the way.

This picture doesn't do justice to the beauty of the peacock.  He was half hidden behind the barn, but I managed to snap a picture anyway.

Chip and his family are very musical.  His daughter is a gifted and talented violinist, his son a self-taught guitarist, and Chip also plays one or two instruments.  The last Friday I was there, they jammed at the local bookstore "As Time Goes By". I’d intended to go for just a short time, but found myself caught up in the excellent music.  I’m so glad I went!

Front left Chip Spender on guitar, Mac to his left, middle, on guitar, to the right Veigh Kaye on violin.  The man  in the camel colored jacket is an admirer.

Veagh Kaye is one talented violinist.  I could have listened to her for hours.

When the gardener returned for the season, my stint was over.  I would love to have stayed longer.  Two weeks was not nearly long enough. 

 

 My next stop was Celeste, Texas.  I asked ahead whether the arrangements were co-ed, and was told no, I’d have my own room.  That didn’t last too long, though.  My host asked if I were “a party girl”.  Uh…no.  Three days and I was gone.  Nice to know you, nice place you have here, but it’s time to move on.

 

 

Texas ice storm.  Who'd have thought it could be so cold in Texas?

And move on I did, yet life is full of surprises.  But that’s the stuff of my next blog.