Drought in Texas Means No Wildflowers



purple verbena in front yard



April is the month for Texas wildflowers, and the Hill Country is usually the best place to see them.  But this year the wildflowers are practically nonexistent.  A couple of Sundays ago, we drove through Bandera (the “Cowboy Capital of the World”), and on through Vanderpool and finally to Concan, near the Frio River.  Normally, we would have seen fields upon fields of wildflowers, especially bluebonnets.  But this year all we saw were straggly clumps of yellow blooms here and there, plus the ubiquitous bull nettle.  When the most common flower you see is attached to a bull nettle, you know it’s a bad year for flowers. 

Bull nettles create a white, cottony flower, but they also sting like the dickens if you touch one.  The other day, while I was walking through some brush near our house (returning the next-door neighbor’s dog--I spotted him frolicking about in front of our house), I felt a sudden flash of pain on my ankle.  First I checked for fang marks.  Happily, it wasn’t a snake bite, just a bull nettle.

Why are there no wildflowers this year?  Because we are in the middle of a drought.  We haven’t had any rain in weeks, maybe more.  In San Antonio they’ve started Stage 1 watering restrictions, which means residents can water only one day a week, according to their address number.  Every night, local newscasters grimly report the current level of the St. Edwards Aquifer.  The aquifer is a spring-fed, underground honeycomb of rock that supplies water to San Antonio and other areas.  When it falls below 660 feet, water conversation measures kick in. 

We’re under a different water system in Bulverde.  The main thing that discourages excessive water use around here is the high cost of water.  The Guadalupe-Blanco River Authority outright admitted that they set water prices high in order to control water use.  Which makes sense and is fine with me. 

gold lantana in front yard



indigo spires

  So what do we do about our yards?  For one thing, homeowners are supposed to cultivate only a fraction of their property and leave the rest in its natural state.  And if you have any sense, you’ll xeriscape the cultivated part.  Otherwise, everything will wilt and die unless you spend a fortune on watering.   Xeriscaping doesn’t mean a barren landscape of cactus and rock, either.  We have exuberantly blooming plants like lantana, plumbago, and esperanza.    For the lawn, we planted zoysia grass.  It requires much less water than other grasses like Bermuda or, God forbid, that water guzzler, St. Augustine.  (See attached photos of xeriscape plants in our yard.)

We also have to consider deer when we choose plants.  Plant nurseries are careful to explain that there is no such thing as a “deer proof” plant, only plants that are “deer-resistant.”  If a deer gets hungry enough, it’ll eat just about anything.  James had a spineless cactus in the front yard that he was especially fond of, but so were the deer.  We tried everything to keep them away, including a motion-activated water sprayer.  Unfortunately, any person who approached the house was also startled with a jet of cold water.  Finally, James dug up the cactus and moved it to the back yard. 

We don’t have to worry about deer in the back yard.  The intermittent presence of our old dogs (they prefer the air-conditioned comfort of the house), even with their failing eyesight and hearing, discourages the deer. 

Last night a cold front came in.  Suddenly our 90-plus temperatures fell to the low 50’s.  This cold front is supposed to herald rain.  We, and I speak for most of the state, are breathlessly waiting and hoping for rain.  Maybe I’ll go outside and do a little rain dance.  I wonder if belly dance would work for that.

The Texas Wave, or The Other One-Finger Wave

The Texas wave is a road greeting, usually between strangers.   It consists of lifting the index finger off the steering wheel as you cross paths with an oncoming vehicle.  You never see the Texas wave in cities, but it's universal on rural roads, at least in Texas.  I don’t know about other states.  The wave involves very little actual motion and is never accompanied by a smile or any other change in facial expression, although someone disposed to be extra-friendly might add a casual nod. 

The Texas wave is also seen on long stretches of highway in sparsely populated areas, like West Texas, where the sight of another human being is infrequent enough to trigger a gesture of polite acknowledgement. 

Of course, in the city the most common gesture is the third finger wave.  Congested traffic and frayed nerves tend to ignite more negative emotions.  But out in the country, we are still glad to see each other, if only in passing.

I'm curious - is the Texas wave common in other states?  Is there a road greeting unique to your area?

Bellydance Recital Looms Ahead

My blog description states that my goal is to dance in the recital, and it looks like that will happen.  I’m looking forward to it with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

With less than three months to go, Miss K is getting serious about rehearsals.  She sent out a firmly worded email to everyone who signed up to be in the recital, known as GBDAC (Give Belly Dance a Chance).  Her message had three major points:

(1)    Attendance becomes critical from now on.  “Your fellow dancers will be relying on you to be there so that they can be sure of their spacing and so that I can be mindful of the overall look.”

  

(2)    She will need to start calling individual corrections, “e.g., ‘Harriet, keep your arms up!’  I won’t be ugly….just direct and efficient.  If you are going to have a problem with that, let me know now….” 

(3)    Trust her judgment when lining up dancers for a choreography.   “I will make sure everyone gets a chance to be seen…but I also have to make sure that those who know the dance best and execute the steps cleanly are in critical places.”  She added that it’s a big stage and everybody will be a star.

The last two points are apparently sensitive issues with some students.  I was a little surprised about that.    

For instance, about point No. 2 - I mean, don’t you expect some correction?  She’s the teacher, and you’re the student, right?  True, we are not used to being corrected by Miss K.  She doesn’t take the time to make individual corrections during regular classes.  She knows exactly what she’s going to cover, has the music ready, and barrels through class like a freight train.  You just hang on for dear life.  Barring someone collapsing onto the floor, which hasn’t happened yet (and if it did, that someone would probably be me), nothing slows down the class.  I like that.  We learn more, drill more, and it’s a great cardio workout.  I’ve been in classes where the teacher goes around to every student to make adjustments, or she stands around deciding what to do next or looking for music, and a lot of time gets wasted. 

About point No. 3 - I didn’t realize we had prima donnas in our midst.  They must be among the advanced dancers.  Those of us who are still on the bottom rungs of the belly dance ladder want to be as inconspicuous as possible.  We’d all be in the back row if we could.

Miss K wrapped up her message with some inspirational cheerleading:

“Over the years, I have watched the attitudes of the public shift in our favor.  While some will always question the art of belly dance, many have come to appreciate it.  It is – I believe – because of well-rehearsed presentations like GBDAC that this has happened.  So we’re going to have a blast!!  AND we’re on an eternal mission!!

On with the show!!!” 

Easter Feasting and an Easy Snack Recipe

We spent a pleasant Easter Sunday afternoon with my husband’s family.  His mom was recently widowed, so it’s her first big holiday alone.  I’m lucky to have such nice in-laws – not a mean one in the bunch.  After lunch we settled in the living room to chat.  But when James and his brother launched into a long conversation about cars, my mind drifted and, eventually, so did my body – back to the kitchen. 

I overate in a big way yesterday.  Mashed potatoes, ham, brisket, seven-layer salad with guacamole, cheese-and-broccoli casserole, key lime pie, cupcakes with jelly bean "eggs" on top.  (I didn't eat any cupckaes, but made up for it with three slices of key lime pie.)  My contribution was deviled eggs and fresh asparagus.  I wasn’t sure James’ family would be keen on asparagus, so I thought about making some Hollandaise sauce to go with it.  Anything tastes good with a dollop or two of Hollandaise sauce.  So I got online to look up recipes.  They all looked pretty simple and called for only a few ingredients, all of which I actually had on hand.  Then I looked at the nutritional information.  I was aghast.  Each serving was loaded with 465 calories!  I didn’t think it was possible to cram that many calories into a couple of tablespoons. 

Besides the fat content, another problem arose with the Hollandaise sauce idea.  The recipe cautioned that it is actually quite tricky to make.  All kinds of culinary calamities can occur.  If you cook it too fast, the eggs scramble and the milk curdles; if you cook it too slowly, it separates (whatever that means).  So I decided not to do Hollandaise sauce.  It turned out his family loves asparagus, so there was no need to disguise it.

I bought three bunches of fresh asparagus, and only used two for the Easter feast.  I also brought home some leftover asparagus.  So now I’ll be on the internet for more asparagus recipes.  How about asparagus quiche, asparagus omelets, or asparagus soup?  It all sounds good. 

While I’m on the topic of cooking, I discovered a delicious recipe for a snack that is chock-full of protein.  And it includes chocolate.

It meets just about all my criteria for a perfect recipe: 

·        few ingredients--two, to be exact;

·        no actual cooking involved

·        tasty

·        nutritious

·        fast and easy to make

·        stores well (except so far there’s never been anything left to store)

Here it is:

Chocolate-Peanut Butter Balls, a healthy snack (really!)

1 tablespoon (more or less) peanut butter or almond butter

1 scoop (more or less) chocolate  flavored protein powder (comes with scoop)

Mix together and form a ball.  Done. 

Ingredients for chocolate-peanut butter balls.

You can put it in the fridge to form a firmer ball, if desired, but I don’t see the point.  About the protein powder, I use Cyto-Gainer Lean Muscle Maximizer, chocolate malt flavor, only because we already had it on hand.  James makes shakes out of it after he works out at the gym.  We have the giant economy canister, but it is sold in smaller sizes.  You can find it at health food stores and at the bigger grocery stores.  I’ve seen it in our new HEB Plus.  And there are other brands. 

This is great for those mid-afternoon or mid-morning hunger attacks.  It sounds fattening, but it’s really not as long as you don’t make one the size of a golf ball.

Do you have any good quick-and-easy snack recipes?  What about suggestions for my leftover asparagus? 

More Small Town Tales: the Bulverde Post Office

Bulverde, Texas, post office

I went to the Bulverde post office yesterday.  It’s in an old, picturesque building, what you might imagine a small town post office looks like.  Inside it’s about the size of my kitchen.  A total of 438 old-timey post office boxes line one wall.  The scarred wooden floor creaks when you walk on it.  The post office used to be somebody’s house in New Braunfels, a town about 30 miles to the east, and somehow it was transported and plunked down in the middle of downtown Bulverde.  Nobody remembers when this happened, just that “It was a long time ago.” 

The Bulverde post office has had its share of controversy.  Some time back there was a flurry of outraged letters to the editor of the local paper, complaining that the post office was not displaying a photograph of President Obama.  It seems that during the previous administration, George W.’s photograph was on the wall.  Accusations and insinuations flew.  When someone got around to asking the local postmistress about it, she said, “They haven’t sent us a picture.  We’ll put one up as soon as they send it.”  There were no more letters after that.

Anyway, I was there yesterday to mail a small package of baby clothes to Bolivia, where I used to live many years ago.  The clerk set the package on the scale and said cheerily, “Okay, let’s see here….”  Then she frowned.  “Hon, did you say Bolivia?”

“Yes.”

“You spell that B-O-L, right?”

“Right.  Don’t tell me…”

“That’s funny.  Bolivia isn’t on the meter.”

My heart sank.  The same thing happened right before Christmas.  At that time a different clerk asked similar questions:  “Are you sure it’s Bolivia?” 

“Yes.”

 “We have Brazil on here.  Are you sure it’s not Brazil?” 

“No, it’s Bolivia,” I said.  “It’s in South America like Brazil, but it’s not Brazil.”    The clerk looked doubtful, so I added, “I know it’s there because I’ve been there.” I was hoping I didn’t sound annoyed, although I was. 

The customer in line before me had been mailing a package to Indiana, and that was exotic enough.  “My daughter moved up there and now I have two grandbabies there, too,” said the customer.  “What’s your daughter doing all the way up there in Indiana?” asked the clerk.  They had a brief conversation about the new grandbaby and why the daughter was in Indiana.  I didn’t mind.  This is what happens in a small town post office.

If Indiana threw her off, she really didn’t know what to make of a place in South America called Bolivia.  She decided to call the post office at Spring Branch, a town a few miles north of Bulverde.   Spring Branch is no bigger than Bulverde, but it does boast a modern brick post office which is no doubt better staffed. 

Her side of the conversation went like this:

“We have a customer here who wants to send a package to Bolivia, and I can’t find it on the Pitney-Bowes.”  Pause.  “B-O-L-I-V-I-A. ”   Pause.  “I asked her that, and she said, no, it’s not Brazil.” 

She looked at me and said, “They don’t have it on their machine, either.  They’re getting the supervisor.”  She repeated the problem to the supervisor, then listened and said, “Uh-huh.  Uh-huh.  Well, I’ll be darned.  OK, can you repeat all that so I can tell the customer?”  She grabbed a pencil and took some notes, then hung up the phone. 

“Here’s the deal,” she told me.  “The only way you’re gonna send something to Bolivia is in an envelope.  They’re not taking any packages right now.” 

“Really?  Why is that?  I just mailed a package there two months ago.”

“I don’t have any idea.  That’s just what they told me.”  So I left without mailing any Christmas gifts.  Back at home I looked on the U.S.P.O. website.  It indicated that until January 10, 2011, Bolivia was not accepting international packages from any mail service.  No explanation was offered.  So I mailed the gifts after January 10.  By then Bolivia had reappeared on the Pitney-Bowes meter.

So yesterday, the same thing was happening.  This clerk went through the same routine, calling the Spring Branch Post Office and telling me Bolivia wasn’t accepting any packages.  She suggested I try UPS.  So I got back on the highway and drove to the nearest UPS office.  I explained the situation to the UPS clerk.  She assured me that UPS could indeed mail a package to Bolivia.  She set it on the scale, punched some buttons, and studied the computer screen.  She said, “You might want to sit down before I tell you this.”   
“How much?”  I asked.

“Two hundred fifty-five dollars.  You might be better off just mailing it first class.” 

So I drove back to the Bulverde post office.  The clerk there found a plain cardboard box for me to repack the items in, and finally I got it sent off for $19.95.  When it arrives is anybody’s guess.  I just hope the clothes still fit the baby by then. 

At the top of the blog is a photo of the Bulverde Post Office.  And right across the street from it is a pecan orchard where I always see two longhorns grazing.  I snapped a photo of one of them as well.  Interestingly enough, just on the other side of the orchard is an airstrip.  You can fly small planes and even helicopters in and out of it. 

So you have old and picturesque next to bucolic next to modern.  That’s life in Bulverde. 

Backyard Wildlife: Cardinals

The cardinals are back.  They’ve built a nest again this spring on the patio.  Last week both male and female spent a few days flying back and forth carrying strings and straw for the nest.  Now the nursery is ready, nestled inside a clay sconce on the back porch.   From the outside, the twigs appear to be in wild disarray, like a little boy’s hair when he wakes up.  But when you look inside, you see a perfectly sculpted hollow. 

I worry about these birds.  I’m sure they think they’ve found a good spot for raising babies.  After all, it’s sheltered from the wind and rain.  The nearby pond provides a steady source of water, which is crucial in these times of drought.  And the nest is safely off the ground where predators can’t get to it. 

But we have two dogs.  Mofo doesn’t care about chasing anything down, even things she can easily catch, like frogs.  But Cooper, the black and white blue heeler mix, is a different story.  Normally, she's the gentlest of dogs.  But when she’s on the hunt, she becomes relentless.  No matter that she’s 12 years old, which makes her seventy-something in people years, according to the chart in the vet’s office.  The prey instinct is still strong in her.  She’s always sniffing around rocks and bushes looking for something to maim or kill.  I worry not so much about the parent cardinals—they know to keep out of a dog’s way.  But I worry about the fledglings when they are learning to fly.  If one flutters to the ground even for a moment while Cooper is around, it is doomed. 

So far this has never happened.  For several years now the cardinals have made nests in our Mexican sconces.  One year instead they nested in the ficus tree on the patio (which, alas, may never hold another bird’s nest - see my blog “The Heirloom Ficus.”)  This made for fascinating birdwatching, because the ficus was right outside our bedroom window.  We could peek through the blinds and look right into the nest.  Often we were looking right into the eyes of the female cardinal as well.  She’d stare back indignantly as if asking, “Well?  What are you looking at?”

Now the female is spending a lot of time on the nest.  All you can see of her through the twigs is the flash of her orangey beak. One day soon the eggs will appear, and after that there will be naked hatchlings craning their scrawny necks.  Then there’s the cute fuzzy stage.  Then one day they are simply gone.  Just like that.  We never see them take the leap from the nest, no matter how vigilant we are.  From my meager research, I’ve learned that baby birds often need a few test flights before they can actually fly away.  They land on the ground and hunker down under a bush or tree, while the parents hover nearby and keep away any dangers as best they can. 

But I’ve never seen this stage with our baby cardinals.  They are speedy indeed with the flight program.  There they are, fat and sassy in the nest, and the next time we look, they have disappeared.  I know Cooper hasn’t gotten them, or we’d find their little feathered carcasses wherever she discarded them.  (She likes to kill her prey, not eat it).  Happily, so far they’ve made a successful getaway.  Still, I worry.  

P.S.  I just went outside to take pictures, and there are two perfect little eggs in the nest!

Song by Wael Kfoury

Time for another song, this one by my very favorite Middle Eastern singer, Wael Kfouri, who is Lebanese.  We were in Las Vegas last fall for a convention related to my hubby's business, and I saw all these posters and billboards for someone named Wael Kfouri.  I was surprised that an Arabic singer would play Vegas.  I'd never heard of him before.  After that, I learned that Miss K had been playing his songs in belly dance class all along.       

I had a hard time choosing which Kfoury song to post - there are so many good ones, and his voice is beautiful.  He sings in a more traditional style than many popular singers, even though he's young.  

This one is called "Tabki Eltoyoor."  It's about "love and hurt."  Haven't we all been there?   (Maybe more than once?)  Take a listen:

http://youtu.be/dlexmPqAzUI

I found the translation.  Keep in mind Arabic doesn't translate easily to English.

The birds cry, flowers wither, sun sets and only darkness prevails
The words are lost, it’s a pity she was able to forget and her eyes to sleep
A dream dies, and all I find is the wind
And misery is born and wounds are all that’s left.
Maybe tomorrow she'll be back , but I disbelieve my hopes
The love died
I collect my wounds, my preoccupations and my sorrows
Stay up for nights while she sleeps

All the time we spent together were easy for her to forget
The honesty is gone, where is the trust
How many times with these hands did I heal my beloved
Who forgot all that we had
My sorrows are big, as big as mountains
The wounds are deep, as deep as the seas
My mistake was being naive and always forgiving
I collect my wounds, my preoccupations and my sorrows
Stay up for nights while she sleeps

Sigh.  Lovely, isn't it?