A bountiful and on-going harvest

- Waiting to ripen -

The garden continues to give and give and give. I am not much of a house Frau when it comes to kitchen doings, especially canning, but thankfully we know others who are so endowed. We've been presented with good pickled okra and loaves of zucchini bread, not made by me, but coming from our own field. We're eating fresh every night and it feels like an accomplishment (though very little on my part, of the gardening) and gives us healthy nourishment.

In the cream bottle, to the left in the photo, is an Oneida spoon that was found while cultivating our little patch of land. A bit of research concluded that the pattern is from a 1948 line of implements put out by the company. My grandfather bought this property, much more than my small part, in 1941. The spoon was found around where the front of the barn, no longer with us, was located, and in an area where vehicles were parked and worked on.

I could say, oh, just a spoon, but I like to ponder how that spoon came to be in that place. The barn may not have been built until the 1950's, but that still gives a timeline that might include my grandpa possibly having his lunch in front of the barn and losing the spoon. Maybe my uncle or father dropped it. Perhaps I carried a spoon off for digging and left it behind.

Then my mind jumps to my grandma and her kitchen, where the spoon might have been pilfered from, and my memories of being there with her: the little paned windows, steamed-up during breakfast; an aluminum pitcher that sat in the fridge, full of cold water; nickels, pennies and dimes stuck in the inside of cabinet corners, to be used for stamps; the smell of lunch being made for my uncle and dad and whatever hand was working for them at the time.

As I cook squash and corn and black-eyed peas, I feel like I'm recreating a time gone past and the comfort that being in my grandma's kitchen gave me. Add in cucumbers, cantaloupes, and watermelon and you'll soon find a woman who has lost the battle with her diet. Healthy nourishment doesn't necessarily translate to skinny.

I've got the right, you've got the right, to see and read

The other day, I had the tv on with the volume off (a strangely satisfying way to watch it), and an ad with a young lady, maybe 16-18 came on, and I could tell she was decrying something she thought was unfair, expressing that she was being oppressed in some way. It made me think how people are quick to jump up and yell about a general wrongdoing or suppression of rights that is so vast in scope as to leave one feeling impotent at the thought of trying to overcome such obstacles, when there are distinct local rights to be claimed that are often left fallow.

The Sunshine Laws, Freedom of Information Act, and Public Information Act are all part of Texas and national legislation that gives citizens access to the going-ons of their local government. We have the right to sit in on commissioners, school board, hospital board, appraisal board, water board, all public meetings, and we have the right to look at minute meetings, upon request and without being asked why we want to see such documents. Having the right and invoking that right would seem to be easy enough to interpret and enact, but that is not the case, and it takes a willingness to speak out and claim the right to get follow through, as I found out recently in a tussle I had with a local entity.

I won't be calling out which office I had trouble with, because this is a small community and it's all "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" (yep, I need my back scratched, too, sometimes). Also, everyone knows everyone, and I can't take the heat. Anyway, I was put off and stalled, making more than one in-person appearance after being told the minutes would be made available but they were not. I was asked why I wanted to see the minutes. I was given a raise of the eyebrow and a "Well, I never", even though the handbook for this entity, citing from Texas law itself, specifically instructs that all minutes be supplied upon request.

Aside from trampling on the rights of constituents, it is also breaking the law to deny access. There are costly fines and litigation that can come from an employee's lack of knowledge about the law, costs that would be passed on to the county should that employee be found at fault. I must quote here my eighth-grade social studies teacher, Mr. Blanchard: "Ignorance of the law is no excuse!".

I finally obtained the records I requested, but only after several weeks and a final letter I sent to them invoking Texas Code. I was hoping to reinvigorate my journalistic career by covering the affairs of this particular institution, whose endeavors I find fascinating, but I just don't have the guts for it.

I enthusiastically encourage every one of you to claim your right to access of local chambers and documents. I say this hypocritically, though. You won't see me around at the meetings. My skin is not thick enough.

It would be greatly appreciated if all the public forums had the transparency of the Fisher County Commissioners Court. All agendas and meeting minutes are made available on-line in a timely manner. They set a good example of availing the public of county actions.

Summer denial

- Charles Smith & friend -

It's that time of year when we try to point out every little sign that the long, dry time is not upon us. "The sage is blooming!" and "But it was 68 degrees last night!" are two delusional phrases that might be heard, but the truth is that we're heading into, if we're not already there, that stultifying, mind-numbing, locust-screaming part of the year that seems to be lobotomized out of the mind each year, only to surprise us, again, the next.

The man of the garden produced a 60 lb. whopper of a watermelon. I tried to get him to hold it over his head for a picture, but he wouldn't. He said he could, though. Just wouldn't.

We've been enjoying the show Yellowstone on Paramount Network. Some of it is elusive to me, especially when they start talking about land and business deals (also, because I read while I watch tv), but I really appreciate the show's continuity. When something happens in the show and I don't understand, I say, "Why did they do that?", then in a few scenes that question will be answered. As an example, some of the ranch hands were at Lowe's or somewhere similar and they sprayed some attackers with a large can of something unidentifiable. We were guessing mace or wasp spray, but in the next scene they're cleaning out the cab of the pick-up, because they got some of the spray in it, and a boss comes up and asks what happened, and in the course of conversation, the noxious chemical was identified as bear spray, which makes sense because the show is set in Montana.

I can suspend belief, but I can't get past trifles of misinformation. I used to watch Preacher, and I could accept a vampire, two-crazy and sadistic angels that lost their telephone to heaven, a lady who came back from the dead, and various other antics and characters, but I could not accept that in the course of being pulled over a Texas DPS officer would ask for license and registration. Nu-Uh, not in Texas. Would never happen. Sticker's right on the windshield. I was fit to be tied after seeing that, I'm telling you.

Detour through Hobbs

There’s a little bit of excitement out this way today. US 180 traffic east of Snyder is being detoured between Midway and the blinking light. So, all 180 vehicles have to turn left at Midway, go to Camp Springs, turn right, go to Hobbs school, turn right, again, then turn left to get back onto 180. Just reverse that scenario if traveling west.

It seems a truck carrying a giant bulldozer has broken down and the road has been closed so it can be off-loaded. That’s what the mailman said, anyway, and I trust him, even if he’s lying. Not really, James! Just kidding! I don’t want to make him mad because there’s a postal saying that goes, “I’ll deliver somebody’s mail to every box every day, but if you make me mad, you won’t get any mail at all!”.

A fine start to summer

- Miss Sunflower -

If you're driving down our road, our house is the one with the row of sunny flowers out front. Each sunflower has its own sweet face and personality. The lady in the picture is a winsome and pretty girl with slightly windblown hair.

I'm a complainer, but even I can't complain about the weather we've had this June. We've only had a day or two of hundred-degree temperatures and we've had a lot of rain. I remember in 1988, when my boy was born, I was big fat pregnant and it had already hit 104 before mid-May. So, this spring and summer start has been a good-un.

There's a lot of bird drama going on in the yard here. Guys chasing ladies, babies being fed, ol' mockingbird singing the news in a flurry of different dialects. We had some baby scissortails that jumped the nest, which is probably a normal occurrence in nature and is how birds learn to fly, but not a safe bet in a yard with two cats hunched down just waiting for a feathery snack. We pulled the truck up in the yard and, standing on top of it, tried to put a chick back in the nest, but that just made the other one jump. Scissortails are fierce and the parents were pretty upset about us sticking our hands in their nest and carrying their babies around. I finally made a Dr. Pepper nest, cutting up a soda box and tying it up in the tree with a shoelace. I let it be, after that. Either the babies learned to fly, the cats ate them, or they are desiccating in the handmade nest.

We've got three huge gardens, not much thanks to me. The squash are growing faster than we can pick them and the okra is coming on. Tons of cucumbers, too, and we ate our first watermelon yesterday. We're hoping the pumpkins last through the summer heat, it would be a nice boon to see them growing big and orange come fall.

The oilfield activity is growing at a gradual rate out here. It looks like we've been surveyed but I haven't seen any permits, yet. There's someone, or some group, in Scurry county naming oil well leases after Pink Floyd songs. So far, they've got Money, Comfortably Numb, and Another Brick in the Wall. If I were given a choice for naming my hypothetical lease, it would just be Templeton.