Pétanque

The latest addition to our yard is a regulation-size pétanque court, which we broke in last weekend when E and his children were down for the weekend.

For some reason, pétanque is not as well known in the US as bocce. Maybe the Italians just have a better press than the French! Basically, it is the same game with a few important exceptions. Bocce is usually played on a lawn and not on a court; pétanque, on the other hand, is played on a court 15 meters x 5 meters. The second exception is that the pétanque ball is much easier for a child to hold than the bulky bocce ball. The pétanque ball (made out of metal, not wood) is about the size of an American baseball. Our 6 and 7 year old grandchildren were handling the balls like real pros (and winning games) after a few trial tosses. Finally, bocce is more a game of bowling, whereas pétanque is a game of precise throwing.

Here is a website that gives additional information:
http://www.discoverfrance.net/France/Sports/DF_boules.shtml

Developing the court took several months because of the boulder field in our backyard. Gradually, the boulders were removed and the tree-shaded allée became a pretty impressive playing field. The pictures show the progression from a wasteland to a great place to play.

Cacti, Take Two

This little fellow is not wild--I planted him myself in a little succulent garden located, of course, near the cactus in the back. The ball-shaped cactus is at most 2 inches across. I estimate the brilliant pinkish-red blossoms to be at most 1/4 inch across. Thanks to my new macro (close up) lens (a gift from my family last year) I can capture beauty that the naked eye could not see.

Cactus Flowers?

Are cacti considered wildflowers? I tend to think of wildflowers as small, often requiring a closeup lens to reveal their beauty. Cacti, on the other hand, are often large and imposing. Are they wildflowers?

We have quite a bit of cactus in the back of our yard--beyond the grass and the flowers. Recently they have burst into bloom, and the flowers are beautiful to look at (if short lived). The colors of the blooms in this cactus which is so abundant range from yellow to orange to red. I hope the picture gives an idea of how lovely they are in bloom.

Fiesta

Fiesta in San Antonio is like Mardi Gras in New Orleans—a festival for the entire community and surrounding area. Fiesta lasts 10 days and is made up of a series of events, all of which celebrate the cultural diversity of San Antonio, and all of which generate income for various charities and local non profits. Originally, Fiesta started out in the late 19th century as a way to celebrate the heroes of the Alamo and San Jacinto (two of the important battles in the war for independence from Mexico). Now it is a series of parties for residents and many who visit San Antonio especially at this time of the year.

Thanks to our son A, we had front row seats on the San Antonio River for the river parade, a parade where the floats really float! We munched on gourmet sandwiches and sipped wine as the gaily-decorated floats meandered by. The floats were a delight, but the star of the evening for us was our 23-month old grandson who greeted each new float as if it were the first one he had ever seen!

Bluebonnets!

Yes, we saw bluebonnets on the way home. The rain had stopped; the clouds were gone; and the sky was as bright as the flowers.

We took the advice of Texas Highways magazine that the best spots for viewing bluebonnets were in Washington County, and they were so right. Obviously the drought of Central Texas had not extended as far east as the Brenham, Texas area, as we saw field after field full of flowers. Often there were pink buttercups mixed in with the bluebonnets (a type of lupine) and occasionally there was the bright red of Indian paint brushes. The star of the day was the bluebonnet, the state flower of Texas, and this was the perfect weekend for this drive.

Washington-on-the-Brazos is the place where the Texians [sic] declared their independence from Mexico on 2 March 1836. There are a number of exhibits and a museum in the park, but we saved the history lesson for another day. This trip was devoted to magnifient, abundant wildflowers.

The Wahooligans

So we went to East Texas to see a performance by Joseph and Tree Brunelle but instead got the Wahooligans? What’s going on here?

Actually, the Brunelles did sing, but the Wahooligans were the warm-up act. The Brunelles were good; the Wahooligans were entertaining and funny.

Oh, yes. Vaudeville is alive and well in East Texas.

Texas--More than a Single State

Texas is a big place. I know, that is a reality everyone understands—and one that non Texas probably tire of hearing about. But Texas is a big place in more ways than geography. Driving from the Hill Country to East Texas this past weekend confirms that fact.

The topography changes dramatically. As one drives east, the limestone of the Hill Country gently merges into farmland with rich dark soil before finally changing into the heavily-wooded terrain of East Texas with its sandy red soil.

The Hispanic elements so prevalent in Central Texas gradually become less pronounced. Oh, there are taquerias everywhere (Latino fast food establishments) but the Roman Catholic churches and the churches entitled “Iglesia” are replaced by many, many Baptist churches. The Church of Christ—almost non-existent in the Hill Country—is almost as common as the Baptist Church. For those who are unfamiliar with the Church of Christ as found in East Texas, let’s just say that this is not the same as the United Church of Christ in the rest of the nation—the name now generally used by congregations that used to be called “Congregational.”

Accents are different, and I just wish that I had the ability to put into printed words some of the different sounds one hears as one approaches Louisiana or Arkansas.

It was reading a feature story in an East Texas newspaper, however, that made me stop and think how different some of the sensibilities are—at least of some East Texans. Here is the start of the article:
April is Confederate history and heritage month. More than 2000 men from Cherokee County [Texas] proudly served in the Southern armies during the War of Northern Aggression from 1861-1865. They fought to defend their homes and families from an invading army who desperately needed and sought the South’s abundant resources of cotton, tobacco, and abundant agricultural supplies.

I don’t know if counties in central, south, or west Texas sent soldiers to fight in the Civil War. Certainly because of the distance, there would have been fewer than from those counties closer to the sites of battles. The description of the war (“of Northern Aggression”) seems to me a characterization one would not find out of the Deep South. In this regard, East Texas still very much feels like the South of the Confederacy.

On the Road Again

We are traveling this weekend--visiting my brother in East Texas. The goal was to view great fields of wildflowers as we drove east, and we chose a route through Washington County, the heart of the wildflower area. We saw LOTS of wildflowers--bluebonnets, indian paintbrushes, and many other species. Only problem was that we had driving rain all the way--thunder, lightening, and all the spring fireworks. We need the rain so bad that we could hardly complain.

However, the forecast for tomorrow is for clear skies. Here's hoping that I can post some examples of the wildflower bounty on the blog next week!

Lantana texana

Connecticut has, arguably, the best gardens in the United States. I don’t know why that is so, as the soil is thin and rocky in places and the winters long and cold. Nevertheless, every spring the gardens awaken from their dormancy, and, eureka! The colors erupt again.

Along with great gardens go memorable garden tours. One of the best to my mind is the garden tour in the village of Stonington-by-the-Sea, close to the Rhode Island border. The protected inlet combined with the moisture from the Sound give Stonington gardeners an extra edge—and they take advantage of it. We traveled down to Stonington for the garden tour whenever we could, often accompanied by our friends and fellow gardeners, the Smiths. In addition to the gardens tucked away behind the antique homes in Stonington, there are also a number of vendors displaying wares of special interest to the garden aficionados from Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New York. One year the Smiths took home a stunning lantana plant from our visit to Stonington. I had not previously known the lantana, which appears to be almost a hothouse hybrid, combining as it does hot pink and bright yellow in the same blossoms. A rare specimen indeed!

Imagine my surprise yesterday to see on my walk with Sammy the dog a bush in full bloom on some unoccupied property that I pass each day. Before the bush blossomed out, I had never noticed this modest plant. Intrigued, I walked closer and found—to my surprise—the same lantana I remember from Stonington! And now not in a small pot, but a sizable bush, growing wild.

An internet search revealed that the plant, lantana horrida, also bears the name lantana texana. And, yes, it is a native species—drought tolerant, salt tolerant, deer tolerant, and heat tolerant. The same plant purchased as a potted specimen grows wild in these parts. I will soon be seeking out lantana plants for my own garden—plants that are not only indigenous to the area, but also memories of dear friends in another place.

Wildflowers

During the springtime, Texas is alive with wildflowers—even in an extended dry period, as we have been experiencing. I remember reading a number of years ago that a two-volume work on wildflowers had been published and one volume was exclusively devoted to the wildflowers of Texas. I am not sure why wildflowers are so plentiful in Texas, but the natural displays have been supplemented in recent years by mass seedings. Of course, if there is no rain to sprout the seeds, they just lie dormant for another year.

Old timers tell us that this is not a good year for wildflowers—no surprise given the sparse rainfall—but nevertheless we are seeing a number of new and interesting displays along the roads we travel. We will be driving to East Texas next weekend to visit my brother, and we have chosen a circuitous route in hopes of increasing the possibility of viewing broad expanses of different species.

The doyenne of wildflowers is the late Lady Bird Johnson, who began the highway beautification projects when she was First Lady. After President Johnson left office, Lady Bird devoted much of her time and energy to wildflowers, and there is a major wildflower research center in Austin that bears her name. We have not been there yet, but hope to visit it soon.

In the meantime, as we drive along country roads and highways, we are keeping our eyes peeled for the most recent eruptions of roadside beauty.

Whoops!

Well, it happened. The deer marauders struck—and it’s all my fault. Here’s the story:

It has been a busy time. We have had out of town company, I have made a trip, and there are routine tasks to be done in the gardens daily (you water every day in Central Texas). Knowing that the organic deer potion I concocted has been successful, I guess I got a little cocky, and one new planting slipped by.

I have an old copper tub—a real New England antique—that I outfitted with a set of nestled trellises. I found some red climbing bean seeds and thought I had the perfect solution for blocking out a view I wanted to obscure. These are the kind of seeds that come just 15 to a package. I planted them; they sprouted; and yesterday when I watered I thought that I would have to start tying the vines to the trellis soon. Wrong! I left out one tiny step: they were never “inoculated” against deer. The result? When I went out this morning the seedlings were gone. All of them. What else was hit in this back garden (the one farthest from the house)? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It has been several weeks since I sprayed my elixir on the cannas, elephant ears, and tiny moon vine seedlings, but they were all intact, with nary a nibble.

I will replant my red beans (I think I have 7 seeds left). As soon as they sprout, they will be sprinkled with the potion. Fool me once….

Gruene Hall

As the brochure for Gruene Hall says, “Come dance with history.”

Gruene Hall’s legacy is more than being the oldest, continually operating dance hall in the State of Texas. It has had fun making history. Known throughout the world as a music venue, Gruene Hall has been instrumental in starting the careers of Lyle Lovett, George Strait, Hal Ketchum and many others. The stage has seen the likes of Bo Diddley, The Dixie Chicks, Jerry Lee Lewis, Garth Brooks, and Willie Nelson.

The Hall hosted baseball great Nolan Ryan’s 50th birthday party and it has been featured in numerous music videos and movies. Of special note is “Michael,” starring John Travolta, whose dance scene was filmed in Gruene Hall.

It’s also the place Jerry Jeff Walker celebrates his birthday.

Gruene, Texas

To appreciate Gruene, first of all, you need to remember that what is “old” in Texas is not so old in New England terms. Our first New England posting was to Plymouth County, Massachusetts (home of Plymouth Rock). Bridgewater, Massachusetts (where we lived) was established in the mid 17th century. That town made our second sojourn in New England—in Canton , Connecticut—seem like we were in a “new” town; after all, Canton was not settled by Anglos until the early 19th century.

So when the “old” town of Gruene (whose motto is “Gently Resisting Change since 1872”) is compared with new England locales, it doesn’t seem very old at all. But then, of course, when we compare any locations in the United States with settlements in Europe, everything in the US seems fairly recent indeed. Which is all a way of reminding us that “old” is certainly a relative term.

Gruene (pronounced “green”) is a little town wholly within New Braunfels, settled in the mid 1840s by a German immigrant, Ernest Gruene. Gruene and others built a number of buildings—homes in the Victorian style, shops, and other buildings, but the center of life in the little community was a dance hall and saloon, Gruene Hall. The town struggled but never prospered, and was completely done in by two very different disasters, the boll weevil and the Depression. Everything went under except Gruene Hall, which never closed. By the 1970s the “town” was just some empty buildings and was to be razed, but new owners of the buildings saw potential for Gruene to rise again. New businesses were established, and all of Gruene was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Today Gruene is thriving. Tourists come from all around to walk the streets of the 19th-century town, but especially to visit Gruene Hall, which has attracted every famous country and western artist, who want to perform in such an authentic venue. It has even been featured in films such as “Michael” (1996) in which John Travolta plays an angel who, coincidentally, performs in Gruene Hall.

Gruene is eight minutes from our house—definitely on the tour for visitors who drop by.

Busy Weekend

What a great weekend! We had guests from Connecticut and Kansas City—attracted by the birthday bash for Jerry Jeff Walker (http://www.jerryjeff.com/)--who performed in the more upscale venue of the Paramount Theater in Austin the night before, but really saved the best for the intimate setting of Gruene Hall.

We did the usual tourist events—the Hill Country, San Antonio (Alamo and the Riverwalk) but the occasion for our gathering was JJW, who did not disappoint. JJW’s songs, like so many country songs, have great titles (“Trashy Women,” “Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mothers”) and even better lyrics—and his fans know all the lyrics. Sample: “When they wear their clothes too tight and their hair is dyed/Too much lipstick and too much rouge/Gets me excited, leaves me feeling confused/I like my women just a tad on the trashy side.”

If you go to hear an artist like old Jerry Jeff, you really want to hear him in a place like Gruene Hall, not in a formal theater with people seated in loge and balcony. As one of our guests said, “this is Americana! I wish everyone could have the experience of a raucous concert in a place like this!” Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Manchester, New Hampshire

The trouble with an accreditation visit is that there is no time for anything personal. The work starts at breakfast, goes through dinner, and extends on into the night. Accreditation visits are a lot of work but a very important part of higher education.

My plane did not leave until in the afternoon, so I had a little time after the visit to walk around downtown Manchester. The town is built on the Merrimack River and the riverbanks are lined with mills that used to be busy centers of enterprise. Now that the textile industry has been shipped overseas, the mills seek other occupants. One huge mill complex near the hotel is now full of retail shops, offices, and the like. I spotted another with broken windows and in general disrepair--awaiting rebirth. The van driver told me an interesting story about that mill on the way to the airport. It was bought 10 years ago by the inventor of the insulin pump and segway, intending to transform it as other mills have been transformed. When the renovators entered they found the premises contaminated with--no, not asbestos. Anthrax! It seems 100 years ago a shipment of cotton arrived at the mill for processing from Afghanistan. When one bale of cotton was opened, 30 workers died when anthrax spores were released. The mill was closed for many years after that horrible accident. The question now is: are anthrax spores silll hiding in the walls and ceilings of the old mill?