Sunday, 6 April 2014

heatin' up

Texas, oh Tex. I'm fond of you, but you're a fickle minx. Cold as sin one day, hot as blazes the next.  As early as March you marched along like it was high summer and now April's confounded at how to react. 90 degrees all arriving at once never sees me complaining, but after so little rain it's criminal. What's a poor plant/animal/person to do? At least the okra won't complain.

Ah yes, the okra, because with spring skipping so quickly into summer, what better to do than to dirty hands and knees in pursuit of turning field into food? With any luck, a few short months will bring a tide of tomatoes, and genuine apprehension at the growing ranks of squash, melon and nightshades.

I'm thankful then, that these unnaturally sultry days have been equally filled with beer tasting, tree grafting, river wading and lazy cycling, before any new latitudes or time constraints crowd out the splendor of summer-esque lazing. For now, it's all tweaking bread recipes and vegetable garden vigilance - there's thieving venison and nosy armadillos as far as the eye can see - that happily fills our homebound time, wrestling with government forms between punches. (Dough, not deer, for those of you with soft hearts and overactive imaginations.)

It's rough, but someone's gotta--
Hell, who am I kidding?

Life 'tis sweet.

Here's a few shots around the family homestead's high points - porches, creek beds, wooded valleys, pecan tree fields and perhaps even a new garden bed or two. Dappled sunlight or full blast of rays, it's nice to feel the orb's warmth on my shoulders as I weed and wander. Skin exposure's finally lawful, legal and so perfectly seasonal once more. 

We may not be here long, but for the moment, Texas, you're doin' just fine. 


- xx