Howdy, ya’ll, from Texas – Hot Dog!

Beautiful mosaic -- San Antonio, Texas

The party’s over and now I must get back to work. I had a wonderful time in Texas with my girls and their families. I’ll share a few photos with you in this blog. I still haven’t decided which direction I want to take my writing and artwork from here, but have a few possibilities in mind.

As Dorothy said in Oz, “There’s no place like home.” It’s always good to get back to your own bed and closet. Bending over a suitcase and rummaging through your clothes each day is wearing after awhile. Getting back to your own T.V. shows and news is like putting on a familiar pair of slippers; not red glass ones, but slouchy worn ones.

Amelia playing the piano for grandma.

Not to say we didn’t have a grand time. So good to see my loved ones, and glad to renew our affection and appreciation for their husbands and dear grandchildren. I told my girls not to worry about “showing us around;” that we'd come to see them.

Sadly they all must work and so were gone most of the day. In Houston, we played games and giggled a lot. Mark is a VP at NPR and Holly is part of a Christian homeschooling team that works much like a private school does. Although teaching was winding up, there were planning and organizing meetings to attend. We did our best to either tag along or see them in between their busy lives.

Paula and Holly, my two Texas girls.

Nathan and Bella

Holly drove us to see her sister in San Antonio. Paula was still teaching classes and organizing an art show that we were fortunate to attend. Her sister helped her hang the artwork while Paula was teaching. It was a wonderful show, and I was so proud of my girls.

I met many of the art students who seemed to dearly love their teacher. Some of these students had never seen an art show, let alone participate in one. 

Most of the students in Paula's classes are Hispanic. Four of the student’s were selected to enter their artwork in a state competition. They were so proud!

We drove into San Antonio one day to experience “River Walk” and to see the “Alamo.” Well worth the trip. We ate in a fantastic restaurant and listened to a live Mariachi Band. Rainbow colored umbrellas housed tables at the many cafe's along either side of the river. Tour boats flowed in the channel and passengers waved to us as we walked.

Flowers were growing or hanging everywhere. My spirit was lifted at every turn. We did not actually go inside the Alamo, but sat on a stone wall and watched people come and go as we rested our feet.

Tyler, Nathan, me and grandpa Dick

The week went by so quickly! Since I have six children, it is usually two or three years sometimes more before I’ll see them again. We couldn’t live further apart. Their dad and I traveled and worked in many different parts of the country, and now our children do the same.

Our next trip we will be back to Atlanta in June for my son’s wedding (Chris). We stayed with them when they invited us for Thanksgiving last November. Georgia is one of our favorite places. We may even return via Savannah for its relaxing charm and good food. We will be driving up rather than flying, which gives us more time to enjoy the ambiance.

I hope ya'll have a wonderful summer. Take time to “smell the roses” and allow yourself to be inspired.

The Alamo

When we drove back, we had to change routes because of this flooding. Texas has been inundated with rain.

Facing the Wind in Times of Trouble

"Sand Crane Dreams" (Some cranes think they are Indians)

I visited my daughter in Texas recently. Her husband is stationed at Fort Hood and is now in Afghanistan. I had visited them before; but on this trip, I focused my artist’s eye on the lookout for possible paintings.

The Lone Star State is all they say it is: “Big!” You can drive for hundreds of miles; thousands, and still be in Texas. My son-in-law’s jeep has a silver star on each hub cap. He’s a Texas boy, born and bred, but with Irish heritage. He’s the only blue-eyed, red haired Irishman I know with a Texas drawl.

There’s so much history in Texas. I wanted to stop and snap photos of antiquated windmills, dilapidated barns, museums, oil pumps, bayous, bogs, cowboys, cattle ranches and the “piney woods,” but we had a timetable. Our radio station blared cowboy music 24/7. My favorite refrain: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

A story in the “Daily Word” last month talked about the old Texas windmills; how in order to pump water, they had “to face into the wind.” This is a lesson many people have yet to learn. When problems come, they run away; either literally or by escape losing themselves to drugs, sex, or food addictions.

"Americana" (part of America's past)

If we could face the wind like these stalwart prairie soldiers do when troubles come, we’d all be better off. If we met our problems head on instead of running away, or drowning them in more sorrow and pain, we would endure. Of course, a little faith in a higher power never hurts.

Some of these windmills have been standing for hundreds of years. They have weathered tornadoes, droughts, blistering sun and abuse, yet still they stand.

A motel where we stayed in Oklahoma had a storm with straight line winds that put the fear of death in our bellies. The whistling of the windows sounded like the proverbial oncoming train, and we covered our heads and prayed. The next day as the storms moved northeast, the sky was filled with rolling clouds and spectacular form and color. The highway didn’t allow for camera stops, and I hoped my brain could remember the sights I witnessed.

At one point, I remember thinking “horses of the apocalypse.” Surrounded by a ring of swirling and fantastic clouds, my imagination could see horses rearing on their back hooves, and others standing their ground. Oh, how I longed to stop and take out my camera!

The Chickasaw Indians and the Shawnees have casinos in the area. I thought of their ancestors circling the white men and soldiers on horseback from the rims of the surrounding red cliffs. An abstract painting began to form composed of cloud patterns, Indian motifs, feathers from their headdresses and from the hawks that awaited their prey.

Titles swirled in my head: “Sky Lights” or “Prairie Skies.” I created not on canvas but in my head. Scenes flew before my eyes. Whether they will stay in memory long enough for me to capture them on paper is another matter.

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Getting out of our own environment once in awhile can jar us from our complacency. It can open up new worlds of inspiration. Whether I actually capture and paint these memories or use my notes is inconsequential. I will never be the same again!