#47 - WARNING: Ponderings of a Rambling Woman

As a Texas gal, I have grown up around country spaces, but I've always resided within the county limits of Harris County, which is mostly Houston, the largest city in Harris County. Our careers have revolved around the city of Houston. I love Houston, and it has served its purpose for a time in our lives, but we are ready for a big, permanent change as we keep working toward re-locating to our acreage.

Part of the land we REPEATEDLY tried to clear, but it will
be a constant battle until we're able to live out there full-time.
The soil is rich and nature is in abundant growth on this land.

Some areas of Texas are chock full of farms, one after the other, but the Greater Houston area is not like that. In fact, we live on the outside of Houston near the Gulf of Mexico, which means our life has mostly included fishing, water activities, lots of fresh seafood and salty breezes, plus a couple of Hurricanes. Regardless, we've been aching for a change of scenery as we slowly make our move out of the Houston area and into the country.

Even though I've not been closely involved with anyone living a "farm" life, I have been around ranchers, oil wells, BBQ'd food, fishing, horses and bull-riding for my entire life. Per our Texas roots, we raised our daughters to know how to ride a horse; those girls can bait and hook and reel in their own fish; they spent many happy times hiking throughout Texas; and they are brave enough to kayak in or to take a swim in a "watering hole."

On the flip side, my girls are comfortable throwing on a sheek black dress and attending an opera or a live play in the Theater District of downtown Houston, and my youngest can even sing in Italian with a powerful voice that defies her small frame. But, I also love seeing my girls in their beloved cowboy boots as they enjoy an evening of country dancing. My girls are serious about their cowboy boots...that's an entirely new story for another time.

My oldest, Heather, at her fiance's parent's ranch in Texas.

Heather & Henry - visiting Michigan for the first time.
My daughter Heather takes after her dad, she's almost 6 feet tall.
Henry is about 6' 5" and they make a good couple
If they have children, I think they'll be 7 foot tall.

Whether we are in the city or the country, I guess we have enjoyed the double-goodness of being able to embrace diversified environments.

My youngest, Stefie, as she would sit in her FAVORITE reading spot.
This was the only horse we had room to keep!

As a resident of Greater Houston, I grew up hearing about oil wells and oil fields. In fact, the town where I first lived as a young girl was the area for filming the movie Urban Cowboy with John Travolta. My dad worked off that Hazmat (Hazardous Materials) Highway in one of those refineries where the "Uncle" in the movie was killed. Yes, we have lost family friends through the years from explosions and plant accidents. Both of my brother-in-laws, on my husband's side, work at refineries/chemical plants. I think about how Urban Cowboy was a fun movie, but the drama laid out was not far from the truths of our local culture.

This is what we see as we are pulling into our city.
Lovely landscape. Am I ready for the country move? Yes!

The movie reminds me that at 14 years of age I danced my first country dance with a young man at the original Mickey Gilley's. That same day, in the adjoining rodeo arena, I witnessed my first rodeo bull-riding death as I sat watching three rows above the terrible scene. The bull got the better of the young man and after he hit the dirt, he didn't move again. Paramedics rushed him off site, but didn't give details. The rodeo took on a somber mood, but continued. Later that night, the local news station revealed the foul ending of what had surely began as an exciting day for that young man. I grieved for him and his family.

And yes, I got in BIG TROUBLE for going to Mickey Gilley's...another story for another time.

So, Texas has taught me a lot, but Deputy Dave and I will be tackling our farm land with a gusto that comes with inexperienced determination. Actually, my husband has experience raising cattle, pigs, and so on and it seems to come very natural for him. I think we'll be just fine, but I expect a few nicks in the plan and we'll learn from them.

And, no, I am not rich. It seems that so many people think that Texas families own oil wells, okay, mine did, a long time ago; or they think that we all wear cowboy hats...I admit that I wear mine, especially to the beach; many people think we only eat BBQ'd food and I slowly realize that we own FIVE pits of varying sizes and the MacDaddy pit is used at least four days out of the week; and there was a time when I wished that I did not fit so firmly into the Texas mold, but I do. Maybe it's inevitable.

Last summer, at the beach in Galveston, 30 minutes from our house.

I was born in Houston, Texas. The South is in my blood and soul.

My mother taught school in a Houston inner-city school. Multiple times, we questioned her sanity for staying at the job. One time, a drunk father came into the school and held another teacher by knife-point at her neck; she ended up being okay in the end, but my mother stayed at her job. Then, she went to her car one afternoon after work to find all her hubcaps missing, in spite of the barbed wire fencing surrounding the teacher's parking lot. Another time, she was getting ready to start her car and quickly discovered the battery had been stolen. She did have sad moments, such as the time one of her favorite students was shot and killed in a drive-by. Then there was the time that a fifth grader in her classroom decided to bring a gun to school in his backpack; she saw him pull it out and she automatically went into her mad-momma mode and yelled, "Give that to me RIGHT NOW." She didn't even stop to think about her own safety, it just made her FURIOUS that the kid brought a gun to school and he was in T-R-O-U-B-L-E. The kid gave her the gun as his eyes were averted with shame. Did I mention that my mother taught from a wheelchair due to being a semi-hemi pelagic?

Yes, Houston has its good and bad points, but I have grown up with Greater Houston in my family's face, always loud and strong.

Of everyone in my family, my husband, Deputy Dave, has the most experience with all things Houston. Working for the Sheriff's Department for over twenty years will give you that kind of in-depth knowledge.

Like any place, Houston has its bad and baddest side, but it mostly has a beautiful side that offers nonstop mesmerizing excitement. Even so, I've had my fill and am ready to retire in the country. Waking up in the country has always been so inexplicably wonderful. Day to day life on our future farm land is full of nature's glory instead of artificial "improvements." I am so ready...

Two other joys of my life. Lyla (Big Red) and Howdy (Blackie).
This was another day at the beach. Howdy is a puppy here & is exhausted!

There is certainty that I will not miss living among refinery-land, but the land of oil production has been ingrained in me from birth. My dad even worked for years on an off-shore oil-rig as a welder. His idol had been Red Adair - the famous personality who could cap a fire raged, blown oil-well. Further back, when my dad was a teenager, his uncle owned oil-wells and after he finally struck oil, he passed out little bottles to everyone in the family that contained oil from his first well. That little bottle of "Texas Tea" signified big things, such as faith, taking a risk, living a dream, sacrifice and hard work.

My tall daughter on the right with her friend as we were camping near
our acreage and taking time to ride horses. Heather & Stefie loved hanging
out at the stables and the owners would let my girls help out by grooming the horses
 and doing chores at the stable. Horse Heaven.

My daughters the blond gals on the left-hand side.
But, the cute gal in the front would end up to be Stefie's
dorm-mate during their first year at Texas A&M - Galveston.

Currently, I do have a cousin who has a beautiful farm and ranch; we have held family reunions at his place.

The family at Bo's house for one of our reunions. An unusual bunch, for sure.

Several years ago, my cousin took me into his barnyard full of farm animals. He knew I was a skittish city girl, but he was determined to show me the good stuff that can be found on a farm. Into a fenced area, he led me to a donkey! Didn't these beasts kick and behave ornery? I did not feel comfortable; it took all I had to not start running like a lunatic to get away from his docile donkey. My cousin stood holding the donkey firm and he tried to get me to pet it, as if the donkey were a household dog. My cousin, Bo, kept saying, "Get over here and pet this donkey! I've got a good hold of him; he won't hurt you, actually, he won't hurt a fly, but he WILL kill a coyote."

Gasp.

How could I stand still and pet the donkey as WILD chickens were running around my feet and wasps were buzzing my head? This was chaos! Yet, as the minutes passed by, my cousin remained insistent. Geez, Bo could be stubborn! Getting braver and stepping closer, I began to look into this donkey's eye (I could only see one side of him as he leaned firmly against my cousin) and I calmed down enough to sense this little donkey's gentle nature, his intelligence and his patience. Closer still, I found myself magnetized to the donkey, and I ended up petting it and petting it. Bo stood with a smile somewhere beneath his handle-bar moustache.

My cousin Bo Franks, my girls and myself at one of our family
reunions. Bo is playing his traveling "medicine man" historic act.
Bo and Susan provide incredible entertainment.
Bo actually had an appearance in "The Newton Boys" featuring
 Matthew McConaughey-hey-hey.
In the movie, you can see Bo doing this same act.
He is a walking riot and Susan is beautiful, always.

Soon, I began to see the donkey as if it were a strange kind of household pet. My attitude toward donkeys were forever changed by that encounter. My prejudiced mindset toward donkeys had been altered. Later that day, Bo's wife told me that when the donkey was born, she'd sit outside with it in her lap, for hours, and she was content with simply existing in a peaceful, nurturing state with this awesome creature. With each pet down his mane and back, I began to understand. On this day, just a few short years ago, I learned that donkeys COULD be adorable. During my time of bonding with the donkey, I began to forget about the wasps that were still buzzing overhead. For anyone who knows me, this was indeed a miracle within itself.

My cousin Bo Franks, me, my sister, my mom and Deputy Dave
during a family reunion at Bo's farm and ranch.

My cousin also taught me, according to his experience with ranching and farming, that mules are more intelligent than horses. Bo actually "shows" his donkeys and mules at rodeo and livestock shows. The ribbons and plaques on his walls demonstrate his pride and knowledge. His amazing wife, Susan, brought out the mules for my daughters and for the other kids at the reunion to ride. With their powerful, swift movements, I was impressed. I'd always been a horse-loving gal, so this was another new Farm Life Lesson. Of course, these mules were of top quality blood-line with constant training and a gorgeous environment; these mules were treasured. My cousin looked so happy on that farm and his sharing it with us brought each of us great joy, especially us people who were city dwellers.

At one of our reunions at Bo's house, my youngest, Stefanie, was
being led on a walk with one of Susan's favorite mules. 

After our visit, we drove back home. At this time, we had a Houston address and were not so thrilled to be leaving the farm my cousin had shared with us. As we drove farther away from the country, we all became deflated. My husband and I had always owned a place in the country to offset our city craziness, but we weren't as satisfied with living the majority of our time in the city. Things were lop-sided. The city didn't look as stellar to me as it had in the past. Deputy Dave and I began making rough plans for some big changes so we could make a move to the country; we even bargained with our daughters --- for leaving their city life, they would get horses. All agreed upon the terms and we began to look for a larger piece of acreage than the piece we'd already had for years in The Piney Woods. Life seemed to be looking brighter than ever; however, we all experienced a drastic jolt after I became critically ill.

At 33 years of age and as a very physically strong young woman, I found myself in and out of the hospital until I landed in a cardiac ward with all kinds of wires and IV's and such sticking out everywhere and I heard the "Code Blue" being called on the floor, but still could not conceive that it was being called for ME. All I can say is that from that point forward, things go fuzzy, but I THANKFULLY was in the care of a brilliant cardiologist who saved my life. Regardless, the road in front of us would be long, arduous and full of ugly twists and turns because my body had decided to fail. We all fought back. But, this health detour created a hitch in our plan to get moved to the country. From then on, our lives drastically veered into survivor mode; the dreams of a different life away from the city took a backseat to me simply wanting to maintain LIFE and to have another day with my family. It was not a time to make a significant move that would surely bring a culture shock.

Last summer, day at the beach with family & friends to honor
a friend who passed away.

It's taken a long time for us to get back on track and for me to feel comfortable enough to make "future" plans beyond the approaching evening. Fighting for your life on a huge scale can do that to you. My five-year plan that I tweaked every year was out the window. Five years? I would be happy for five more days. Life was different.

Bo demonstrating his "Hair Tonic" that's guaranteed to grow hair.
My dad is his willing test subject and after a bit of tonic was rubbed
onto his bald head, he went behind the blanket that's strung up
and came out with a head full of hair. Got to buy those tonic bottles!

Even so, we continued to make our country dreams fit into our lives. After I became seriously ill, we sold the place in the country that was on the Lake and we bought nearly ten acres, again in The Piney Woods, but this land was raw and densely wooded. Our acreage came at a time when we most needed it. Weekend trips to our land transported me away from my crumbling health as the chaos of the city began to close in on me. The remaining fragments of the city girl in me began to disintegrage as the country girl in me grew stronger. I craved simplistic livng in its most raw form.

So, our acreage joined our family during a time when we four were feeling displaced, shaken and uprooted from the normal securities in life. The land changed, yet stayed the same. It struck the core of our existence. There is no question that we are eagerly looking forward to an early retirement on our land. Nature...it's been a huge part of our lives; we don't shun being in the midst of untamed nature. Our land is raw; and fellow nature-lovers will understand, even if they are sitting smack in the middle of the city, that nature can beckon you and it can wrap itself around you and provide unexplainable healing.

My youngest, Stefie, showing her fascination with snails.

As for our acreage, it came at a time when we, as a family, needed healing. Therefore, that ground will always be sacred to me. It provided a closer tie between me and God. It seemed that the closer to the dirt I'd get, the closer to God I'd be. Maybe that's why we have such an intrinsic need to have a vegetable garden or to obsess over the plant in the corner of the living room. After all, the soil of the earth holds our beginning and our end.

During the worst of my illness, there were times when I would cry because I craved being on our land. I wondered if I'd ever get to go out there again. And I don't cry easily. It's difficult to express, but I wasn't afraid of going there because I wasn't afraid to die. Yet, I didn't want to die and leave my husband and two young daughters. One day, my husband decided to take a chance; he'd take me to our land in spite of the health hurdles. I was too weak to do anything but sit on our land and be a part of nature on such a huge scale...to sit and watch the trees sway in the wind and to hear the birds singing...powerful sounds of nature not crowded out by city life. Deep within my soul, I needed this place. I had no idea that our land would hold such restorative powers, but it did.

There were times, against my husband's judgment, but to honor my wishes and to make me happy, he would take me there...away from the comfort of nearby Houston's Medical Center and away from the rapid response 911. He either gave in or trusted my instincts; I don't know which. Once on our land, he would set out a reclining lawn chair and practically carry me to it, bundle me in blankets with my book, drink and walkie-talkie so I could simply be there for hours, immensely happy during a very sad time in my life. Even though he'd stay within my eyesight, I didn't have the lung power to yell out, so he thought walkie-talkies would help. It was a good idea and it allowed him to work to clear the underbrush of an area while I sat and sat and sat...happily.

After our visit to the country, we would return home and I would feel as if tangible healing had taken place. How can nature have this power?

I don't know the answer to this question, but, for me, I needed to be on our land. It allowed me to focus on things other than a frustrating, useless television remote control, and it helped me escape the same four, dreary four walls that I'd been staring at for months. Beyond that, being on our land for short visits even gifted me with the ability to escape the grief-stricken expressions of visitors coming by. Like a germinating seed, I took root in life again and began to regain strength. Against odds that I can hardly believe myself, I was given a second, third and more and and more chances to the point of regaining more health than I ever thought possible. Most of my doctors did not expect this to happen...

Five years ago, my mother lay in my childhood home that was only six houses away from my own and she was dying from breast cancer. Since I lived so close by, I was often at her house or running errands (to the best of my stubborn ability) that she needed to have done. I was still not well. I'd had one dangerous cardio-thoracic surgery performed months before she died and the surgery left me with a collapsed lung and other serious surgical complications, but I didn't have time to even think about my own suffering because my 57 year old mother was dying.

Approximately two weeks before she died, I was confronted with the fact that she was indeed close to death, and I didn't know how I would handle it. Would I freak out? My mother was my best-friend. I could share anything with my mother. But, as death closed in on her, I asked my husband to take me on a day-trip to our land so that I could make my peace with losing my mother. He did. We loaded up the trailer and headed out, even though it had been a long time since we'd been to our land. M.D. Anderson trips had been our focus for so long...I contemplated losing a day with my mother, but I needed to do this.

As soon as we arrived onto our overgrown acreage, I sat on the lawn tractor for six hours straight that day; laying my heart's burdens with God. It seemed that the sounds of the tractor shut out all other distracting noise. I didn't even feel any pain in my body that had been surgically battered. I zoned out and made my peace with God's plan to take my mother.

While on that tractor that day, I wound my way around many towering trees as they stood tall and strongly rooted in their prime; I mowed around sapplings that would one day grow strong, with God's blessings; and I mowed around some old trees that finally succumbed to a life long lived with their majesty spread out on the ground to again become one with the earth.

Our land, letting some trees fall to the natural cycle of life.

As usual, I found that being tucked inside the palm of nature provided a healing perspective. How can nature break through our defenses and speak so loudly without saying a word?

I don't know, it just does. One thing I've learned in my Farm Life Lessons is that subtle happenings in nature can speak the loudest in our darkest moment, certainly louder than hard steel or cold concrete. Maybe this is the reason that city dwellers try to recapture a bit of nature within their man-made confines...the rooftop gardens, the rubber plant in the corner and the communal vegetable garden in an inner-city...it's healing connection time with greenery and dirt.

I treasure my personal haven where nature thrives unobstructed. This is the place where I find my own internal road blocks dismantled. Who likes road blocks anyway? Or honking horns? Or Sky-rise buildings...or...or...Starbucks...I am needing a trip to the country, desperately.