More of the Texas Roadside in Spring

First, as they say, administrative details: that book about Barcelona I referred to yesterday is "The Shadow of the Wind", a novel by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. That's all. As you were.

I'm getting plenty of sleep, just none of it when you'd expect. I went to bed late Monday morning and got up well before noon, so I lost some time there. Then I was out taking pictures and got back here in time to order pizza for supper. I ate, then sat down about 6:30PM (you still with me?) to read in my recliner while I waited for Cathie to come over and watch "Tuesdays With Morrie" (Netflix), even though it was only Monday. Well, of course, I dozed off. When I awoke, Cathie wasn't there yet and I glanced at the nearby clock: seven something, where are my glasses? In a few minutes I got up and, walking past the kitchen, I noticed the clock on the microwave: ONE-TWENTY! That'd be 1:20AM, you know, 0120 hours. I thought I'd dozed for 15 or 20 minutes and, instead, I'd been out from 7PM till 1AM. (Cathie's daughter had come to town, so Cathie went AWOL.)

So that's why I was still editing the pictures I posted yesterday at 6AM. I can now confirm that Daylight Savings Time works; the sun didn't come up till 7:44. And, as I write this (8:20PM, Tuesday), I'm about ready for supper, having already napped today from about 8:30AM to nearly noon. I've already done all the pictures and written the text for this post (save this intro), so I'll splice it all together, schedule it to ship out on the morning tide, scarf down dinner, and - assuming Cathie surfaces - watch "Tuesdays With Morrie" while it's still Tuesday! Don't you love it when a plan comes together?

Prickly Pear, check. Bluebonnets, check. Little Yella Flowers, check. Grass, check. Weeds, check. Boulders w/ lichens, check. Post Oaks, do we need a doctor for these guys? Cedar, yeah, that's it. What we call Cedar here in Texas is Ashe Juniper if you ain't from here. All the Cedar in the central Texas hill country - and there's a lot of it - isn't dead. But the drought has surely taken its toll. Lots of ranchers try to kill it anyway because it competes with grasses their stock use for forage. But I like the dark green Cedar usually adds to my pictures. On the other hand, this bright rust color they add now is at least a change of pace. I wonder what'll eventually take its place.

Back the late 60s, I used to hitchhike from Kingsville, in south Texas, about 200 miles up to Austin, in central Texas. I remember one morning in early spring, my first in south Texas, somewhere around Seguin, between San Marcos and Kenedy (I'd been stuck waiting for a ride in Kenedy or Karnes City most of the night). It appeared that someone had painted all the pastures on both sides of the highway. Most of the fields were incredibly blue, and scattered about, here and there, were large areas of red and yellow. I had never seen anything like it, and I've never seen anything like it since (except in pictures). The blue fields were, of course, Bluebonnets; the red were Indian Paintbrush. I've seen yellow before, so I didn't pay much attention, but I suppose those fields were Buttercups or Dandelions. I'd like to see something like that again, sometime.

I like these Yuccas; even when they're burned up, they add so much to the landscape.

See what I mean?

I made this shot the opening picture on my Facebook page, replacing some sailors in a raft on seal hunt in Alaska. They were probably ready to come in and get warm and dry again anyway. Bluebonnets, Cedar, Oak, pink boulders, and cloudy skies. That certainly says, "Central Texas", but some Rattlesnakes, Longhorns, and Comanches would make this picture perfect.

Oh, yeah. Road Runners, Doves, Mockingbirds, and some Hawks and Eagles wouldn't be out of place. . .   I got us a Turkey Buzzard.

I Know, It's Been A While

Yeah, I know, it's been a long time. . . but I've been busy. Doing what? Don't ask. The few things that come readily to mind can't come close to filling all the time that's passed. It's a good thing we retired people don't have to keep time cards, charging to this activity or that one. I wrestled with a biography of Samuel Clemens that left me ambivalent about my erstwhile friend. The most interesting thing I learned, I suppose, is that his daughter, Clara, stage-managed his persona so closely and so well after his death that all we can remember about the National Icon is his white suit, thick hair and mustache to match, and a jumping frog from Calaveras County. I won't ruin him for the rest of you; I know how much everyone loves Mark Twain. His witticisms still work as they always have but, now, at least for the time being, I have to file him with Charlie Sheen and my guilty pleasure, "Two And A Half Men".

Sam Clemens filed away, I'm reading a new book, something about shadows, that takes place in Barcelona after World War II. I like the way it's written, but I don't know quite where it's headed yet. I'm enjoying the trip, however, because I wandered the very same streets in wonder (and sometimes under the influence) between 1972 and 1974 when I was on the boat. Barcelona is a beautiful city and going back there, if only virtually, is a treat.

But you came here for the pictures, right?

This was truly a Lucky Shot. Pretty good for holding the camera over my head and just pointing it upstream. Ten miles west of Marble Falls - and another 43 miles from Austin - I'd pulled off FM1431 at this overlook. The bluff is above the Colorado River (no, Texas' Colorado River, not the Rio Colorado that carved the Grand Canyon). I wanted to prove to myself that there is, in fact, water in Texas, even after last summer's  drought. The vista side of the entire overlook was obstructed by an eight foot high chain-link fence, complete, topped with the mandatory 3 strands of barbed wire. The only clue that may explain this overkill is a small sign that reads, "No Dumping".

I could go on a rant about Texas under Gov. Perry, but he's such an easy target and he probably doesn't know anything about the fence. I took some pictures, but decided not to include them. I couldn't bring myself to undo all the good work that Texas Highways magazine, with its excellent photography, has done for so many years. But, come on. . . this is the only real Vista for 100 miles or more, and their only remedy for their problem is to put up a fence??? Let's move on. . .

 

The rest of these, and I hope there will be more tomorrow, were all taken on Park Road 4, east of Inks Lake, and simply laid out in the order that I took them so I wouldn't have to randomize them. I left my apartment, the Hermitage, and came out here to take pictures of the bluebonnets, if I could find any. I heard rumors over the weekend they were out there, west of Austin, somewhere. They're hard to pick out in the thumbnail, but there are bluebonnets in the picture. Be patient; we'll see some. I think the joy of just being outside after so much time left me giddy, and I shot anything and everything that caught my attention.

I really like this one. If I could only get past the idea that screams, "Rattlesnakes!", that citadel would be a great place to hold off an army approaching from the road, just behind me. Sorry, I was 10 years old again for a minute. . .

The sky is clear blue, or overcast, or something in between. It may even be spawning tornadoes. The trees may be healthy, or withered by drought. The wildflowers may be in bloom or not. The one thing that doesn't change, however, is that there are always motorcycles on Park Road 4.

This is an interesting composition to me. Most of my pictures, if I have done my job well and have a chance to re-crop them, draw the eye to one or more points of interest, or allow the eye to join the flow across the picture as though you were passing it by. Sometimes, the composition is static, which bids you stand there and let your eye wonder where it will, finding points of interest in virtually every part of the frame. This one seems to me to be static in that sense - there are things to look at everywhere - but it flows as well; This one's like a spiral, starting at 9 o'clock and directing the eye clockwise around the tangle of branches to the cactus and wildflowers across the bottom, then up the tongue of grass left of center to the rock, balancing on the horizon, and leaving you to wonder what caused that rust color that looks like a fire in the thumbnail.

This is one of those balanced ones you get to look at for as long as you wish. There aren't nearly as many bluebonnets here this year as there were in 2010 when I brought Mom out here with me to shoot them, nor are they as widespread. I don't know whether I was early, or so late that I nearly missed them altogether. All I know for sure is that, despite the dearth of bluebonnets and continuing record low lake levels, we've had enough rain since November to make this year better than 2011. But there's no Indian Paintbrush. . .

Cathie just came in and assured me that I'm just early, that I'll have more opportunity to capture los Bluebonnets.