Time To Plant

Grandma's Backyard

Ft. Worth

8.5" x 11"

pencil

According to the Moon Phases in my sidebar, there is a full moon. That means that it is time to plant, according to what I remember "Toot" telling me. Yet, I hear the news people say that it is too late to replant the crops that were destroyed by the floods in the Midwest. Here, it may be getting too hot. I really don't know.

My "gardening" seems to work like this. Throw something out in the yard. It may grow, or the birds, deer, or ants might eat it. We actually did plant some things that have thrived over the years, Crepe Myrtles, several rose bushes, a Mimosa tree, and a couple of Lantana plants. One small place with Day Lilies keeps coming back. But, the gorgeous Hibiscus plants that I once had didn't make it. They were huge, with blossoms the size of dinner plates. But, one morning, I went outside and there wasn't a trace that there had ever been a plant there. I don't know what happened to them. I would say that a deer ate them, but there wasn't even a little hole where the stem came out of the ground.

One year, I threw the old still life materials I had from my fall arrangement that my students had been drawing, out by a fence. Was I surprised when I had corn growing and vines of gourds that covered a fence. The gourds came back until we removed the fence.

With rapidly rising gas and food prices, along with everything else, and we hear that people are needing to grow some of their own food, I feel like we should plant something. We have room for a big garden in back, but, between fire ants and critters, and no one who wants to get outside and work , that is not going to happen.

Several years ago, I bought a few packages of seeds. I thought that I might plant something, when the moon is full, or on Good Friday. But, those days always slip past and I forget about it. I've even saved egg cartons to start some plants. I thought of starting seeds in the egg cartons, then transferring them to flower pots, or even the plastic ice cream buckets that I have been saving.

We tried to have plants in our windows and indoors, but the fire ants found them, and the plants had to go outside with some ant poison. By then, the plants were about dead. The last plants we had indoors were seeds that my grandson's teacher had sent home for the kids to plant. Our plant grew and my grandson was working on his project. However, it soon had mildew on it and we threw it in the trash.

During the War, (WWII), we had a Victory Garden in our back yard in Calvert. A lot of people grew something, and still had cows, chickens, etc. at their homes. Even people who had grocery stores. One year, my dad had someone plow the middle of our back yard to make a garden area and I was to plant it and take care of it. I actually had some very small lettuce, some small potatoes, and lots of carrots! The lot was higher on the north side, toward the front of the house, and sloped back to the street behind us. So our Victory Garden did very well on the north side where it drained. But the rains kept the south end of the garden underwater. We didn't get anything from that side.

Grandma and Grandpa Miles moved from their farm in Navarro county to Ft. Worth about the time of the War. They lived in a small apartment in Victory Village, housing for Air Force families and workers at the aircraft plant. After the war, they bought a little house in the new housing that was springing up.

Most people who bought the little houses, were planting some trees and fixing up their back yards for children to play or for entertaining. But not Grandma. In the spring, Grandpa had someone come plow up all of the back yard, except for a strip around the edge of the yard. Grandma planted her garden and spent every morning out chopping and tending her garden.

In the summer and fall, she would have fresh things to eat, and spent time canning and preserving for the winter.

In the drawing above, I was remembering Grandma, with her hoe, out working in her backyard garden, until almost noon, when it started to get too hot. Then it was time to come in and cook dinner. And after that, she and Grandpa just sat in their room, in the sweltering heat. I wrote about that in an older post.

She always wore her sunbonnet out in the yard, with long sleeves and those separate sleeves that ladies wore to protect their arms from the sun. Her cotton dresses were simple, sometimes with a little lace trim, rick rack, or tucks for decoration, and always with a somewhat long skirt. She wore cotton stockings and her yard shoes, galoshes, if it were wet outside.

Grandpa is shown standing at the back of the yard, pointing out things to my sister. To one side, my friend, Eddie Grace, and I are standing, talking, probably about movies and movie stars, or boys.

Grandma would show us how to pick various things in the garden and how to know if it was ready to be picked. But we had to be very careful, in case we might do something that would harm the plants or disturb the garden.

We could go sit on the back steps in the afternoon when the house made a little shade, or walk on the grass around the garden. But we knew to stay out of that garden unless Grandma or Grandpa were supervising.

Remember that, in those days, there was no air conditioning, and even fans were rare. So, we looked for shade and a bit of breeze.

Wish I could plant a seed and grow the things that I seem to eat most. Potatos and potato chips, M&Ms, ice cream, chicken, tomato soup, bran flakes. And even gasoline! And in that line of thinking, I'd like to be able to grow a money tree, too. Pure fantasy, just like a garden in my yard would be.

Seriously, though. The rising prices for everything are really scarey. It makes my head swim to try to think of how this has happened. I always thought it was a shame that we have so many huge grocery stores, packed with food. There aren't that many people to buy all that food. And in other parts of the world, people have so little and are starving. So, what happens to all this left over food? But, now, we are hearing of looming food shortages and higher prices. I don't know how much more some people can cut back on things.

Glen Beck, on tv and radio, has been urging people to stock up on food and necessities. He predicts that it is only going to get worse. We may need to all take a cue from Grandma Miles and plant a backyard garden. I'm sure that we would starve, if we had to depend on my gardening. Being a picky eater, I probably wouldn't eat what I could grow anyway.

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Saturday June 21

19th World Wide Sketch Crawl

Click on the Sketch Crawl logo at the top of my page, for more information . I hope that everyone will join in and draw their surroundings on Saturday.

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Downtown Bryan

Texas Reds Festival

Friday Evening and Saturday

I have a link to the festival below the Sketch Crawl links. Sounds like a lot of fun, and that will give Bryan sketchers even more things to draw. The 4141 locomotive is going to be parked and there will be lots of food, activity, and entertainment.

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Please share this with anyone who might be interested.

Let me know if you see something that particularly appeals to you. I appreciate your support and your comments. Most of the work is for sale. Click the contact button and let me know if you are interested in one of my creations.

Thank you to all who have signed my Guest Book and who have joined my group.

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Happy Father's Day

Indianola Courthouse at Sunset

Family Photo

We don't really observe Father's Day in our family anymore. The fathers all seem to have died. I don't recall that we ever celebrated that day very much. We would get the fathers a card, and a gift like pajamas or a tie. Sometimes we would make something, which really wasn't appreciated. Gifts were taken, with thanks, then put away in a drawer to save for the possibility that they might have to go to the hospital, or if they happened to run out of their closet full of ties.

We often had our special meal of red roast and red gravy, with some of the men being served their favorite, fried oysters and oyster stew, with crackers. Most of the ladies and the children were not going to eat that!

Of course, there was church before that Sunday Father's Day meal.

We had a lot of men in our family who were not fathers. Many, who married, didn't have children. And, many didn't get married to begin with. It took them all to help raise the children, of those who did have families.

In later years, Daddy liked to barbeque, then take a nap before going out to check the cattle. He would put a little stool beside the barbeque pit outside the back door, put a lot of lighter fluid to get the fire going, then put on the chicken, weiners, or hamburger patties. They always were black and tasted like lighter fluid. But he loved to do that. He would sit in the hot Texas sun, tending the fire, and sipping cold "sky juice", as he called water. That was from his Aggie days.

The picture above is one of my favorites. It shows my father, carrying my son, on the old foundation of the courthouse at Indianola, about sunset. This was probably about 1965.

If you are a father, I hope that you had a wonderful day!

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It's just around the corner!

The 19th World Wide Sketch Crawl is Saturday!

Click on the Sketch Crawl logo on the top of the page, for more information and to go to their website.

I hope that you will join in! Remember, it's free, its' worldwide, it's for everyone, all ages, all levels, all media, families, groups, or individuals-just everyone, all over the world, all at the same time, drawing/painting/recording their surroundings through art.

Locally, we will meet at the Frame Gallery in downtown Bryan to register, then gather at the LaSalle Hotel, if anyone needs coffee and such! From there we can see who is working and where they want to work. Then we will spread out and start drawing the Brazos Valley.

We'll spend the morning and afternoon sketching.

Lunch is on your own, or a group could go together, if they want to. The Texas Reds Festival will be going on downtown Bryan, so there will be plenty of food to eat at the festival or at local restaurants.

After working, people can get together at the Frame Gallery to share experiences and their work.

There will be entertainment downtown, so, if people want to hang around and do the festival, they are welcome to do that.

After the Crawl, participants can either post their own work on the Sketch Crawl website, or they can add it under my listing for Bryan/College Station. They can also add it to their own website, blog, or places like Flickr.

People in the Calvert area, can do the same thing, but meet at Mud Creek Pottery on Main Street. If anyone is partial to kolaches, they might be sure to check out Zamykal Kolaches on Main Street, to start the morning. There are other eating places, there as well.

Hopefully, people in other communities will start their own Sketch Crawls for their areas, or they can work on their own, if they want.

Let's draw the Brazos Valley while other people are drawing their part of the world! I think we have plenty of material here to choose from.

Let me know if you need more information, or if you would like to join us in this area.

I would love to see what you create!

So get out your pencil and paper, or watercolors, markers, pens, paint, or whatever you want to work with and join in on Saturday.

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Little Brown Church

Little Brown Church in the Wildwood

(sketch)

8.5" x 11"

pencil

"Now, open your hymnals and let's all sing, 'The Little Brown Church in the Wildwood'." The preacher announced the page number as Mama started playing the introduction on the organ. The congregation seemed to swish in unison as everyone stood up in the pews and the pages rustled as pages were turned all over the church.

I looked for the songs in the bulletin and on the board in the front of the church, and turned the pages back and forth until I finally found the song. I was a little sweaty with panic, worrying that I wouldn't be able to find the right page before the song was over. I could read, but not as fast as the grownups, or so I thought.

There. I found the page as everyone started to sing.

"Oh, come, come, come, come." The repitition reminded me of a march, with the drums drumming.

I could hear Daddy's deep voice coming from the back pews of the church, along with Herman in the choir near Mama and the organ. I could hear "Toot" beside me, with her deep voice, and Miss Mildred who stood in front of us, but toward the center aisle. And, of course, Joe Bill's distinctive voice as he usually led us at Sunday School. Over everyone, Miss Imogine's operatic soprano voice soared through the building. Everyone else blended in, and even harmonized appropriately.

This day, I picked "Toot" and "Honey" to sit with during church. Barbara was probably sitting with "Pappy" and Uncle Tom". We rotated who we sat with while Mama played the organ. We couldn't sit together or we would soon be squirming, pushing, pinching, squabbling, and had to be separated. Grandma had quit coming to church since she was deaf and couldn't hear anymore. They tried all sorts of hearing aids for her, but none really worked. The shrill noise as she tried to adjust it was earsplitting to everyone around her, but she couldn't hear it. So, she stayed at home.

If church was really crowded, or if some of the family was not at church that day, I might sit with Daddy on one of the two back pews. This was where a group of men sat. Usually, Grandpa and Irvin were also there, and sometimes, Uncle Tom, if "Pappy" were not at church for some reason. Mr. McMillan sat there, and several others. The men took up the collection and were ushers. But, when the sermon started, it become the snoring section. The men fell asleep and had a nice nap until Mama started playing the organ and woke them.

To make us behave, when we had to sit with the men, Daddy or Uncle Tom would provide us with Smith Brothers cough drops. Daddy would occupy himself with counting. He used the bulletin to write down the number of people present for Sunday School and for church, counted those there, wrote down the collection amounts. And he kept all of those, for years.

"Toot" was kind of a "cut up". She would show us how to make things out of the tin foil gum wrappers. (Of course, we couldn't chew gum in church, but we could find a wrapper saved in a purse, just for such occasions.) A goblet was the favorite thing to create with the foil.

She also showed us how to do "Here's the church, here's the steeple." And then we would pass that on to the younger kids near us. Something we could do without saying anything.

"Toot's" gold bracelet and compact, and her purse, often entertained me through church services.

Eventually, I learned to read the back of the hymnal. And, after I was grown, they added a Bible at each place along with the Sunday School and Church hymnals. I would read the announcements in the bulletin several times, but there usually were not that many. Also the devotional on the back of the bulletin was sometimes of interest. But too much reading, and I would be asleep like the men in the back.

I wish that I had thought of drawing but it wasn't a good thing to have a pencil or pen out in church. People would expect that you were going to damage the wooden pews or mark in a hymnal. So, I drew with my eyes! I outlined around the stained glass windows, the pews, the box by the door that held the speakers for the organ, the pulpit, the altar, the posts.

One day, I had been doing that, while sitting with the choir, and, after church, a lady came up to compliment us on the music. She told me that my eyes just danced while I was in the choir. I thought that, maybe, I would have to tone down my drawing with my eyes, and try to look at the preacher or my music. But, if I did that, I would surely fall asleep too!

As we grew older, we would sit with our friends from school and Sunday School class, or sit in the choir, where everyone could watch us.

This particular Sunday, as we sang "Little Brown Church in the Wildwood", I tugged on "Toot's dress.

"Toot", is that our church that we are singing about?" I whispered.

"Toot" kept singing and nodded at me to be quiet and sing.

I sang a little and imagined a small church, out in the woods, painted brown.

But, that didn't make sense to me. We were in a brown church, so did someone in our congregation, or maybe a long ago member, write that song about our church? If not, who did? And why? What was the church that they were writing about? What did it look like? Where was it? Was it a church that people went to before this one was built? Or was it just an imaginary church?

Why were we singing about a little church when we were in a big church, Sneed Memorial Methodist Church in Calvert? One that was brown, but brown brick. One that looked like a castle, not a cozy, small country church.

Maybe, if they were writing about our church, the author thought that this was a small church compared to those in large cities.

Were they writing about a tiny church, like the ones that we made with our hands? Or maybe a church made of logs?

So many questions and no answers, I thought. I just kept imagining that church and the woods, and wondered about it every time we sang the song.

The drawing above is a sketch of my memories of the times that I sat with "Toot" and "Honey" at church. I haven't added in other church members as it is kind of small, and I didn't want to cover my primary subjects. The little brown church that I envisioned is floating in the front of us, much the way that I saw it.

Interestingly, the little church I imagined, looks a lot like the one where one set of great-grandparents went in Tennessee. A place that I never saw until I started corresponding with the author of "Mechanicsville". She has some wonderful pictures in her book! One difference is that pictures I have seen of the Short Mountain Methodist Church do not show woods around it.

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At the top of the page, I have added a link to SHIFT, that will let you hear some of their music. They will be at Texas Scottish Festival next weekend. Hope you enjoy their music and be able to go to Arlington for the big Festival.

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Also, under MUSIC in my sidebar, you will see links to Ruthie Foster, who is from this area. And another link to Big Otis, who will be appearing at the Texas Reds Festival June 21. You can hear some of their music on their links. Enjoy!

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Please sign my Guest Book at the bottom of the page.

I cannot respond to you through the Guest Book, so please send me your e-mail address if you would like a reply.

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Let me know if you see something of interest.

Click on the contact address in my sidebar.

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Happy Easter

Happy Easter!!

8" x 10"

watercolor

Wishing you and yours every happiness and blessing on this very special Easter day.

Spring is here. Grass and leaves are bright green. Bluebonnets and other spring flowers are beginning to show and, soon, some areas will be blanketed with blue, pink, red, and yellow.

In my little painting, above, I have shown a narrow barn with Mesquite trees in the background. My father used to love to work out in the family's various pastures out in the country. He loved to ride his tractor and mow or to do heavy work that others said he should not do. He liked to show his strength. One pasture that he rented just north of town had a lot of Mesquite trees. But there were just too many and that meant that there wasn't much grass for the cattle to feed on. The Mesquite trees thrived, no matter what. He would cut them down and, before you knew it, they were back with more than he had to begin with. They multiplied instead of dying out. You can see a little tractor with Daddy riding among the Mesquite trees in my picture. There are also a couple of bales of hay because he had to feed the cows since there wasn't that much grass in this pasture.

We thought that the trees were pretty with their bright colors and lacey leaves, until we found out that they had thorns. I remember in a painting workshop that I took with my mother, she asked the instructor, Harry Ahysen, how to paint leaves on trees like Mesquite and Willow trees. They are certainly different from the roundness that we work with in things like Oak trees.

Also in my painting, there are two children (a boy and a girl) , sitting near the barn, playing among the Bluebonnets. Maybe they are waiting to hunt Easter Eggs hidden in the flowers.

Poochie, our dog when I was growing up, is sitting, watching a butterfly. Poochie was an excellent Easter Egg hunter! She often beat us to the eggs, and ate them! And, if we couldn't find some and the "Easter Bunny" couldn't remember where he hid them all, Poochie would find them. We came home with less eggs than Mama had decorated.

We didn't actually go to the country to hunt eggs. This was actually a spring picture. But, it sort of fits with spring and Easter and memories of childhood.

"The Easter Bunny" (Daddy) usually hid eggs for us in the park just a half block away, before Sunday School and Church at Sneed Memorial Methodist Church. Some years, they were hidden in the yard or at the school, which was on the other side of us. If the weather was bad, we got to hunt eggs, over and over, in the house. We didn't have candy eggs, big chocolate bunnies, or baskets stuffed with goodies, unless it was a coloring book or paper doll book and some crayons. We had a colored straw basket with some green Easter Grass in it. And we added the eggs that Mama had colored for us with egg dye and vinegar.

Some years, when we were small, we had a big Easter Egg hunt on the lawn of the Methodist Church, or on the school grounds, and some years, in the park. Those were fun when there were lots of kids. And stressful for little ones, and their older siblings, who had trouble finding the eggs. Of course, we had to try to make sure that Poochie didn't come. She would have found all the eggs! And Poochie was one loyal dog who would find us, especially my little sister, where ever she went.

At noon, after church, everyone gathered with their families for a big Easter dinner, with the good china, crystal and silver. Mama would usually bake the ham as her's came out the best. Sometimes we ate at Grandma Conitz's house until she couldn't do the cooking anymore. Some years, we had our dinner at Pappy's house, or Toot's (two of my great-aunts). Or some years we had the dinner at our small house.

The menu was about the same for each family dinner, except we had ham at Easter and turkey for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We had red roast and red gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potatos with marshmallows on top, ambrosia, creamed corn, English peas, stuffed celery sticks and carrot sticks, spiced peaches, deviled eggs, rolls and bread with coffee, water, or iced tea to drink. The salad was always either a Jello salad with fruit, or a pear or peach half or pineapple ring on a lettuce leaf with a dollop of mayonnaise. For dessert, there was pie-apple, chocolate, mince meat and, sometimes, Grandma made Boston Cream Pie. Fresh whipped cream topped the pie. We also had cake and Bakeless Cake, which had to have whipped cream on top, too.

After dinner, grownups did the dishes, sat around the table and visited, while we begged to go to the picture show or sat under the table and decorated underneath with our crayons. Sometimes we would go outside and sit around. Grownups would take a short nap while we read the funny papers and waited anxiously for our Sunday afternoon ride through the Brazos Bottom, to A&M, or to Marlin and Waco.

Some years, we had a community sunrise service in the bandstand in the park. I remember one year, at least, that the CHS band played for the service. I thought that was nice, though it was so early! I always thought that the park was underutilized for community events. To see a picture of the bandstand, you can scroll down to my Spring Break post and see a picture of the bandstand in the snow, a few years back. It really was a lovely place.

Of course, fashions played a big part in our Easter observance. Socks with lace and matching panties and a handkerchief, a new purse to twirl, a pastel colored dress, with a matching hat, white shoes and gloves, and a pastel colored coat and sweater, in case of an Easter Snap, were shopped for, months in advance. Ladies hats, matching dress, coat, sweater, white gloves and light colored shoes, a matching purse were also planned for months. My mother sewed, but, our good dresses had to come from Cox's or Goldstein Miguel in Marlin or Waco, or Jack and Jill in Marlin. We looked through catalogues and newspaper for ideas, but we spent hours and hours in the stores, trying on and finding just the right outfit.

For men, there were spring suits, but they often just brought out one they already had, took it to the tailor shop if it needed updating, had it cleaned, bought a new shirt, tie, socks, and shoes, had their hat shaped or bought a new one, and got a new handkerchief for their pocket.

I don't remember that there was anyone who didn't go to church on Easter, unless they were sick and unable to go.

And, I can't remember most of those pretty outfits that I wore!

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Sketch Crawl:Saturday March 29

For Details, see yesterday's post or

click on http://www.sketchcrawl.com

If you are in this area, and are interested, let me know.

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Brazos Valley Art League Juried Show

Pick up entries March 28th

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Christmas Angel

Mock Stained Glass Window

Angel

Construction Paper and Tissue Paper

8.75" x 11.50"

(See the slide show below for steps and the post below that for instructions )

The Light Is Upon Us At Christmas

Elaine Winter (Steszewski)

Crystal blue sparkling evening stars

A full moon shining brightly in the heavens lighting our path

Bright candles in the churches all over the land

This must be Christmas!

Church choirs, children's Christmas plays, Christmas Parades

Welcoming the Savior's Birth

Welcome Jesus to the earth!

A gift from God for us forever.

I asked Elaine for permission to use her poem on my blog and she kindly agreed. As I worked to finish the Christmas angel "stained glass window", I thought that Elaine's words would go very well with my art work. Thank you, Elaine!

I thought of so many things when I first saw Elaine's poem on the Polish_Genius genealogy list.

The big Christmas tree that used to be placed in the middle of highway 6 in Calvert, for the community Christmas program, and for the enjoyment of people driving through town. The big cedar tree had to be moved back off the highway, thanks to the highway department rules and increased traffic, further into the intersection on Mitchell street. After that, people didn't come out as much as they did for the event, which included the singing of Christmas carols and a visit from Santa. The wind sometimes blew the tree over.

Nearby Hearne had a similar program, but they had an intersection downtown, off the highway. After their tree was blown over, too, they drilled a hole in the street where the tree could be secured better each year. They haven't had the tree in Calvert for years, and, more recently the buildings were outlined with white lights. That looked really nice. Like a story book town. Unfortunately, they have lost some old buildings. The park is now decorated, unlike in the past. That is another place that is like a storybook.

I thought of the Christmas programs at the Sneed Memorial Methodist Church. The Christmas tree there in the basement. Mama would play the piano, and we had a little program and refreshments. Santa would come, and, when we got older, we tried to guess who he was. It had to be someone in town, but who? The black rubber rainboots were always a giveaway that this was not Santa from the North Pole. His boots would have been fur lined for the snow up north. Mr. Ford would always bring apples or oranges from his grocery store, or, in good years, both, and everyone got one. I think I remember one Christmas that we were given the delicacies of a tangerine. I don't remember that we got presents, but I remember the fruit, and, sometimes, a candy cane, and some nuts. I remember that, one year, especially, Charles' father came to play his guitar and sing for us.

There would be a Christmas program upstairs, too, and Mama played the organ for that. "Miss Immie" (Miss Imogene), would sing and direct the choir and a program, while she was still living. And we would have to sing or recite something, perhaps read from the Bible. One year, when my sister was very small, she was coaxed into wearing a dress and singing "Away In A Manger". She was very tiny, and very shy, but she made it through that song like a little angel.

There were Christmas plays at school and at the City Hall auditorium upstairs, when we dressed in costumes. White gowns, with fabric wings lined with golden ropes of Christmas tinsel and halos fashioned of the same golden material. And, some years, our little group of Calvert girls who were taking ballet and tap dancing lessons at the country club in Hearne, were called on to put on costumes and dance. I loved the glittery sparkle, but I was so bashful that I would cry and have to be coaxed out by my friends.

I remember one Christmas, not so many years ago, when Reba and I talked about going to Midnight Mass at the Catholic Church in Bremond. We couldn't get anyone else to go with us, so we went alone. I went to pick her up and was amazed that she left a large candle burning on her piano. It looked very pretty through the big window. But, I was concerned about the safety of leaving it. She explained that she had taken precautions and it would be safe. The candle was for solidarity and the people in Poland who were going through so much and were fighting for their freedom at that time. Lech Walesa was spoken of a lot in the news. She felt that we should go to the largely Polish community and church to show our support. And, her candle in the window was in response to the request for people to light candles all over the world in support of solidarity. We weren't Catholic, and she wasn't Polish, and I didn't know at that time that my great-grandfather had come from Poland (Prussia at the time that he came over). But, we joined many others that Christmas Eve with the little that we could do for freedom and to worship as we chose. I didn't know how memorable that night would be. I had left my children at my parents' home, where we were all living, after we had our Christmas tree and presents, and everyone had gone to bed, to drive to another town and join in their Christmas Eve service. We did often stay up and watch Midnight Mass on tv, but this was different. The Mass was in Latin and Polish, so we didn't understand a lot of it, but we did enjoy the music, and just being in this different atmosphere. It was special and moving.

Then there was the Christmas , about that same time, when the old hotel, where I had grown up playing around and visiting my cousins and their grandmother there, had been converted to a hotel and dinner theatre. I was still shy, but I went to the produtions to write them up for the newspapers. They convinced me to take part in the Christmas play, "A Christmas Carol". Now, I really dreaded it because I was really bashful, but, the worst part was that I never could remember things I had to memorize. The first few lines would stay with me, but, after that, it all disappeared. But, I did like to dress up and play around with makeup. I went over and over my lines, but only the first part seemed to stick. We had a good time rehearsing, and I thought a lot about the days when we played around the hotel. I thought that I knew every nook and cranny of the place.

There was an opening play before "A Christmas Carol" started, about a Sunday School class Christmas party, and I got to play the part of the teacher. My daughter was one of the Sunday School students. She was scared stiff! But we just tried to ignore the audience and pay attention to what we were supposed to be doing on stage. I had a pretty white satin blouse and a long white satin skirt with quilted velvet squares for that part.

Then, the fun began when the director played Scrooge. He powdered his hair until it was gray and drew wrinkles on his face with an eyebrow pencil. And, when we went out on the stage, I was a little shocked at him wearing long handles! Larry was a hoot!

Everyone dressed up and got into the mood. We got together at rehearsal and made tape recordings of moaning and chains rattling. The hotel owner was Marley, dressed in Victorian finery. I can't remember who the young man was who played the ghost of Christmas to come, but he was frightening to see. Looked like death. He had a hooded robe, and you couldn't see his face. He was tall and just seemed to float.

I was the ghost of Christmas past, and couldn't really afford a costume, so I used a long white dress that I had. Then I used some remnants of blue sheer material, that were long enough to wrap around me and trail. I layered those and made a train and a veil. On top of my head, I wore a piece of blue lace. Then Larry powdered my face to make me look pale.

Larry was so good at his lines, but, then he started improvising on stage. He told me that he was going to , but to just follow him. He led me around that stage and I was so relieved that my lines fit!

It was almost over and I was about to exit off the back of the stage into the lobby. I tried to float gracefully off the stage, and, as I got into the lobby, so relieved to be off stage, someone told me to wait. One of my trains of material had caught on a nail, and I had left it behind, draped across the stage! Someone had to go get it for me, and I about collapsed into a puddle on the floor with embarassment. But, I survived, and so did everyone else. Unfortunately, the dinner theatre didn't, and the hotel was sold.

The Calvert High School band had concerts in the auditorium at Christmas, Easter, spring, and anytime we could. The choir sang for programs and, in music appreciation class, we sang.

I remember cold, clear star filled nights, looking for the Christmas star in the dark blue sky.

There were Christmas parades from the school to downtown, and I watched from Conitz Dry Goods Store, until I was old enough to march in the band with my flute. Merchants hoped that visitors to the parade would come in the stores and shop. Eventually, we would go to the Christmas parade in Hearne, too, and those merchants were also hoping for more trade. The towns were in competiton to see who could have the biggest and best parade. Floats became more numerous and complex and awards were given.

We always hoped for some snow, and nights of going caroling, followed by refreshments and hot chocolate. A picture perfect Christmas. That never happened. Snow and ice seem to only come in January or February in our area, if at all. (I do remember a little snow for Thanksgiving a couple of times.) I think that I remember going caroling one time, and then going in for refreshments at the big Foster home, where "Miss Immie", and her sisters lived.

We didn't have lighted plastic or blow up yard displays. But there were tastefully done lights, and maybe candles or bows, around town in the homes and businesses. Deep, red light glowed from the ruby glass windows at the Presbyterian Church, and from the stained glass windows in the other churches in town. Riding around to look at the Christmas lights was something that had to be done often during the Christmas season. It wasn't a matter of who had the biggest or best display, but to just take it all in and enjoy each decorated home and public place.

We heard the story of Christmas everywhere. One year, my mother bought me a beautiful book with pictures from the story of Jesus' birth. The paintings were all in delicate pastel colors, but the halos and everything that should have been gold, appeared to be painted in gold. I took my book to Sunday School to show my teacher and my class. I remember that Miss Rita told us that Mary was a young girl, about our ages, when Jesus was born. One girl asked if that was true. And everyone was shocked. The bell rang and we went upstairs to church, shaking our heads in wonder. There was more discussion from my book the next Sunday morning. I still have my book, but it is now tattered and worn.

I hope that you are enjoying a wonderful Christmas with family and friends, and that the weather is not too bad where you are. As they say, remember the reason for the season.

Scroll down and check out the Guest Book that I have added at the bottom of my page. You have to go all the way down to the bottom of the page to see it. Add your name, where you live, and a picture, if you would like. It's interesting to hear from everyone. And, if you are an artist, you might like to show a piece of your work in the picture area.

Merry Christmas!

Blue Monday

Blue Monday
Wash Day
8.5" x 11"
pencil

Don't forget to watch "On The Record" tonight (Monday) on Fox news, 9p.m. central time, 10 p.m. eastern time. Greta Van Susteran is having a special on breast cancer and her trip with First Lady Laura Bush to the Middle East where Mrs. Bush was trying to create more awareness about breast cancer.
http://www.gretawire.com/
Read Greta's blog for more information and wonderful pictures and videos she took on the trip. I feel like I was with them!

Scroll down to my last slide show to see the latest watercolor I added about the space station and space shuttle flyover.

I thought that Blue Monday was called that because of the blueing that was used in the wash water with white things to make them look whiter. I didn't know that it might have been because of the sad idea of having to start another long week at work, or the daily grind of housework, or even of a rainy Monday that might make some people feel blue or depressed.
Monday was wash day, all over town, not just at our house. Tuesday, was ironing day; Wednesday was heavy cleaning such as mopping and waxing floors, taking blinds down and washing them in the bathtub, with the afternoon reserved for Bible study groups or some sort of get-together. At night, the Baptists had church.
Thursday was a day for lighter cleaning, sewing, patching, darning and, in the afternoon, the ladies would gather for their sewing circle or, during the War, for the Red Cross Sewing Circle. There they might knit socks or sweaters for service men, or roll bandages.
I can remember meeting on the sidewalk beside the bank and in front of Mack Remberdts Furniture Store with the ladies. I wandered around, while my mother and the ladies rolled bandages, sitting on the wide step in front of the building. When weather was bad, we would either meet inside, courtesy of Jessie Marie, or at Mrs. Wyser's house. I guess we had to stay out of the way of potential customers, or couldn't go in when the owner of the store was around. I'm not sure about that, since I was a kid and more interested in the patterns of the bricks and why they were not level in some places, and the metal in the steps and the decorative panels in front of the building.
Friday was yard work and finishing up the school week with the big football game on Wilkerson Field that night. There was always a big crowd for that, while a lot of the ladies stayed at home and listened to the radio. You could just open the windows and hear the game being announced over a large portion of the town. This was also the day of the big auction at the Auction Barn, with a lot of people going to the cafe there for lunch.
Saturday was the big downtown business day. Maybe some more yard work. Movies and the drugstore for the kids. A trip to the Katy Hamman Stricker Library in the morning, along with radio programs beginning with "Buster Brown", then "Jack Armstrong", "Sky King" and others, until time to walk or ride the bike to the library. Choir practice, and, for my mother, organ practice, was on Saturday afternoon. This was also the day to wash and dry hair. Saturday night was radio while baths were taken and Sunday dinner was started. Daddy always had to work late, as the stores were open until people quit buying, getting ready for church, and the next week.
Sunday morning was Sunday School and Church. For our family, it was Sneed Memorial Methodist Church. The family gathered at one home for Sunday dinner, depending on who wanted to be the host that week. Sometimes, especially if there was illness in the family among the women who had to do all the work, we would go to the White Hotel or the Calvert Hotel for a big family style Sunday dinner in the large dining rooms.
After dinner, and a nap, the men went out to check cattle in their pastures, then we all went for a ride. Then there was supper, often of Red Roast and Red Gravy sandwiches on toast, and we could eat a stack of those! Sure were good. We would eat until we were about to pop, and still wanted more! Then there were Sunday night radio programs. I liked to go over to Edie's house and listen to her big floor model radio in the living room. We could sprawl on the floor and get lost in the happenings on the programs.
Then it was back to Monday, and washing all those clothes we had worn all week!
In my drawing above, I have shown the clothesline in our back yard, which began at the corner of the garage, and stretched across part of the yard to where my dad built a tin roofed shed. Behind the clothesline, you can see the fence which he used to enclose the horse pen, for our horse, Flicka. The trees behind the horse pen separated our yard from the next yard, where you can see a bit of the roof sticking up of the wooden house behind us. The shaded area shows Mud Creek Mountains. Not really mountains, but hills that ran along Mud Creek south of town, separating us from the next town 7 miles away. We could see train lights coming over that hill into town, and, during War years, we could see the search lights during air raids. They were coming from the next town which we thought might be a target due to oil storage tanks and rail lines, as well as the POW camp.
My mother was dressed in her dress, with fairly nice shoes on, while she hung out clothes. Bertie, our helper, wore boots, that hung open at the top, cotton stockings, loose skirt and blouse, a jacket with sleeves, and a sunbonnet. Sometimes, she wore a scarf wrapped around her head. And, of course, she had her dip of snuff in her lip. In the picture, she is mashing the clothes with a broom handle. My sister and I liked to play in the billowing sheets, so I have shown her crouched on the inside of a sheet, with me pushing through the sheet from the outside. She is following Poochie, our dog, who also liked to play wherever we were playing.
Clothes are boiling in an iron wash pot over a fire, fairly far from the house. There are buckets for carrying water from the house to the wash pot. A rub board and a bar of lye soap are on the ground. There is also a box of detergent used in washing the clothes. (One concession to modern times. But, they still thought that clothes were not clean unless you used some lye soap too.)
The heavy pot would have to be emptied and refilled as the water became too dirty, and between the soap and rinse steps.
Prior to this stage of wash day, Bertie and my mother spent time in the kitchen, by the back door, sorting clothes, then washing them in the kitchen sink, with a rub board. Dainty things, like ladies unmentionables, would be first, and those things were hung in the bathroom on the shower rod, where the neighbors' eyes couldn't see them. Those might be done in the bathroom sink as needed, rather than waiting until Monday. Delicate scarves and blouses were next. Heavier, and more soiled things came later. A little blueing was added to the water of white things to make them sparkling white. Starch was boiled on the stove and added to shirts, pinafores, some blouses, tablecloths and napkins, and anything that had to hold its shape and look smooth. Clorox was added to white things that needed bleaching.
The wet wash had to be hung on the clothesline to dry, with wooden clothespins that remained on the line, ready for next week's wash. Rich people might have a canvas bag to keep their clothespins in, and take those into the house after the wash was dry. Our's stayed in place, and the same pieces could be hung there the next week. Sometimes they would break off, which meant doubling up on the pins for the next piece of laundry. It was, for some reason, exciting when a new package of clothes pins would be brought home and placed on the line. The kids wanted to be the ones to put the pins on the line! Simple pleasures. I guess it was tactile and had to do with the feel of the spring and the new wood.
It was a big setback if one of the posts holding the clothesline would break or fall over, and all the clothes fell in the dirt and grass and had to be rewashed. Daddy liked to use wooden posts, or even a plank to prop up the line if we had something heavy like quilts drying. After I was grown, he had someone make some metal posts, which were much sturdier and long lasting. But, I could tell that he didn't really like giving up those wood posts. Mama was happy to get any convenience.
It was heavy work, with a lot of carrying from the house to the back of our yard, and, sometimes it didn't all get done in one day. But, most of the time it did, and things were ready to do all the ironing the next day.
Bertie didn't help us full time. Daddy didn't make that much money, and he was very conservative with his money, anyway. But, on Monday and Tuesday, and, sometimes other days, he would get Bertie to come help out. Some of the homes had regular help, and some, just occasionally.
Bertie was like another one of my mothers, I thought. I always asked her, on wash day especially, when we would play outside, if she would bring one of her children to come play with me. She would just laugh, and I would continue to beg. I don't think she ever did bring one of her children to play while she worked.
Daddy finally bought Mama a front loading washing machine when I was in high school. He put it on the concrete slab outside the back door, where he planned to build another room, a den, onto the house, eventually. Bit by bit. He ran the hose out in the yard to a pear tree, which was also our pet cemetery. During times of drought, he would move the hose around to water some of the trees in the back yard. Mama argued that the hot water was going to kill her trees, but I guess the soap made the trees flourish. That tree had some wonderful pears!
Work was heavy, meals had to be ready on time, children had to be cared for, social and community obligations had to be met. It all had to be done daily, on a schedule, throughout town. The fire whislte blew at noon and at 6 in the evening, so everyone knew to go eat dinner or supper. You could tell the time by the trains that went through town, every 15 minutes.
My great aunt, across the street, had her laundry picked up on her front porch by a laundry and cleaners who came to town each week. She worked hard, and sometimes helped at her husband's store, and her husband wanted her to have that luxury of not having to wash in the back yard. That was fun to play around in the sheets as she prepared them to be wrapped up in one big sheet, and set, like a big bag with ears, on her front porch.
I'm so glad that we have washers and dryers in our homes, now! I don't think I could make it even through one load of clothes like my mother did every week! I have washed clothes in the bathtub and the sink, in a portable washing machine, and lugged things back and forth to the laundromat. I even did the rub board in the sink at my mother's house when my son was small. I thought it was just a step up from a rock in the river!
Hope your laundry is done, and that this is not a Blue Monday for you! My laundry is still going, but, at least, I can do other things while the machine does the hard work!

Greta Van Susteran asked those of us who read her blog and her viewers to spread the word about her special on breast cancer tonight. So, I'm inviting you! Hope you get to watch. If not on tv, maybe you can find something about it online. There was a tv program about breast cancer on Channel 13 out of Houston last week. They had a lot about Baylor Hospital in Houston on that program. That might be online, too.
One question in the blog was whether or not people thought that mamograms should be free. That raised the question about what would happen if something was found and treatment needed. Who would pay for that? And what about other illnesses and diseases? A whole flood of thoughts and questions. Of course, I can't help but wonder about the issues that I struggle with, like treatment for Macular Degeneration, cataracts, knee replacement, medication, visits to doctors, and the healthcare that we all need.
Look at Creative Journey blog, when you get a chance. I like her idea of a weekly challenge, not to mention the creative projects and art work that she is showing. Very interesting. Check it out when you get a chance.
Also, look at Nancy Standlee's blog. She has some very appealing work and ideas, too. You can find a link to her in the sidebar of my blog.
Virginia Vaughan is another busy artist, with some very nice work. Be sure to check out her blog, too. She is painting, "the last", as she winds up her Last Year on the Farm.
Let me know if you see something that appeals to you. Thanks for your comments and your support, and for sharing this with others.

Gassin' Up

Gassin' Up (detail)
Image size 11" x 15"
Paper size 12" x 16"
watercolor
"Gassin' Up" is a work that has been in progress for a while. I worked on it some more last night. It's a self portrait, actually. This is one of those paintings where it takes two people to do it. One to paint the picture, the other to hit them in the head and make them stop! Trouble is, I keep stopping, put it aside, look at it for a long while, think of a different thing to do, work on it some more, then look at it for a long while.

My sister stopped at a fillling station in Hearne to get gas late one afternoon, headed south after a trip to Calvert. I was riding with her. While she went in to pay for the gas, I was looking at the backs of the old buildings across the alley. I thought those would be interesting to paint, and it would be good to record them while they are still standing. Those buildings have changed so much since I was a little girl, and used to ride with relatives to this town down the highway from my home town. Some buildings are gone and just the concrete slab is left. All my life, the buildings have been a sedate brick color, with maybe some green or white, maybe a touch of black, trim. Now, bright colors have been used, and colors that don't always exactly match, in my view. That kind of grates on my senses. But, then, the buildings aren't mine. I know that those colors are used to attract attention as cars whiz by on the highway, in hopes that travellers will stop, visit, and shop or eat in small towns. I think they would be much more appealing as they used to be, with dignity and charm.

As I looked at the backs of the buildings, I could see the back of an old cafe where there once were outside stairs that led to rooms and offices . Some windows had been covered with wood. My aunt talked about going there to eat when she worked in that town during World War II. And I remember it as being a nice place, with white tablecloths and heavy silverwear, and a black and white tile floor. But, it was closed for a long time.
I can't remember what was in the building where only a slab is left. I do recall offices, and rooms for rent upstairs in buildings and cafes that catered to travellers and people who worked for the railroad, right across the highway . This was a busy little town with a lot of different businesses downtown.

I didn't have a camera with me, so I used a cell phone to take a picture across the alley. My sister got back in the car and we were on our way. Later, when I looked at the picture, I realized that I had a picture, not only of the alley, but also I had taken a picture of myself in the side mirror! That was a surprise.
When I decided to draw the alley, I thought that it would be different to put the mirror with the face in it to help fill the bottom of the composition.
And, as I started painting, I decided that I would give myself purple hair. I like Cobalt Violet, to start with, so I used that color. (I always thought it would be fun to do my hair different colors! After all, Mrs. Slocumbe on "Are You Being Served" changed her hair color for every program, and, shouldn't the art teacher be colorful! But, when I was told that I would need to remove the color to get the shade I wanted, I decided that would take too much maintainance and be too expensive. When it turns white, maybe I could try it. But that is never going to happen. It may turn gray, but no one in my family has ever had white hair-not even at age 96!) At one point, when they were popular, I wore some wigs, and I tried a red rinse on my hair, but it hardly showed.
Anyway, I gave myself Cobalt Violet hair in the painting, added sunset colors to the backs of the buildings, and shadows where the buildings are recessed. The parking area of the filling station was asphalt, so it is black. I left the parking lot a pale blue, and tried to decide if I wanted to darken it, or if I want to keep it all light.
I finally thought, "Just do something to it and see what happens! Finish it and go on to something else! " So, yesterday, I just let some light blues and purples flow into some water, and I added a figure walking in the alley. I had been thinking of someone going home for supper at the end of the day, with a sack of groceries .
It was a bit too dark in the late afternoon to check colors or to paint, so I propped the painting up and looked at it some more. I've turned it upside down, sideways, looked at it in a mirror-all the tricks I can think of to check my painting. I even asked my "critics" (family), whose response is often, "Do whatever you want to".

With a transparent watercolor technique, you start light and build layers of color to darken. So, I can still add more layers of color to darken the paved area. I'm thinking of going as dark as Indigo Blue. But, with watercolors, which are a staining medium, some of those colors are not going to come off or lighten again, once they are down. My next idea to check on whether or not I want to use dark colors in that area, leaving the buildings and sky light, is to cut out a sheet of dark construction paper and lay it over the parking area. That might give me some idea of what I want to do next.

Another problem that arose is that, when I went back to my picture on the phone to check it, my picture, and a few others, have disappeared. So, I don't have my reference photo anymore.
I have tried and tried to figure out how to get photos from a phone, of things I want to draw or paint later, to the computer, without having to buy something else. So far, the people who I have asked, don't know either. I hope I don't lose the rest of my pictures!
At least I do have this painting. I may have to do the whole thing over and just change it all.
In the scan, there appears to be a lot of yellow. In the actual painting, there are more peach and orange tones, instead of such strong yellow. I'm not getting good camera images, so I'm scanning things in sections.

See below to look at a little bit more of the painting.

The Brazos Valley Art League (See their link.) is having a show coming up. I'm trying to think of what I might enter. I don't think that "Gassin' Up" is something that I might enter, but I'm thinking, and trying to finish up some things.

I added a new link under my Interesting Sites section. This one is for Zamykal Kolaches in Calvert. Some good eating there from one of the old buildings! There are also some updates on the Hammond House link and the Calvert website. Calvert is getting ready to have their Victorian Gala with a tea, booths downtonw, etc. Take a look at the website to find out more. The owner of Zamykal's Kolaches was on tv, talking about the event. There are pictures online from last year's Gala. Sounded like fun, and a chance to dress up in Victorian clothes.




Gassin' Up (detail)

Sunday Drive-Rumble Seat

Sunday Drive
Rumble Seat
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Here it is, another Sunday afternoon after a very exciting Aggie football game. All those overtimes! I didn't know that could be done. Wish I could have been there, but ticket prices are just too high now, so we have to settle for tv. And, we miss my favorite part of the game-the band.
Today's picture is a drawing of my family going somewhere-perhaps to see my mother's parents in Navarro county or a day trip to drive around Waco, where my parents met.
Daddy had a Ford coupe with a rumble seat when we were small. The interior was big enough for two adults and, maybe a small person in the middle. But, the long gear shift was on the floor in front of that space, so it made it difficult for anyone with legs that would hang below the seat to sit there. It worked to put my sister in the middle, when she was a baby. Or Mama would hold her.
But, when she got big enough, she moved to the rumble seat with me. We had quilts back there to wrap up in when the wind or cold got to be too much.
Our long hair would whip in the wind, even if Mama braided it. The wind would soon pull it loose. Sometimes, my sister would laugh at it. I just tried to hold my hair so it wouldn't hit in my eyes and mouth. We could duck down so the wind wouldn't hit us as much, but it still would whip around in the rumble seat. And, too, we couldn't see outside that way. All we could see inside the rumble seat were Daddy's tools scattered and the water jug he carried, in case someone needed a drink during the trip. Sometimes there were sacks of groceries , or a suitcase, if he was going to leave us at our other grandparents' home on the farm for a visit. Mama kept her purse with her for quick lipstick touch ups .
I showed Daddy in his favorite driving position, with his hat on, wearing kahkis, (on Suday, he usually wore his suit, unless he was going out to the pasture) and his arm out the window. No matter how cold it got, Daddy wanted the window opened at least a little crack. He said he needed it open to keep him awake. But the wind would blow right to the back seat and through the car. Heaters were not much good except in the front seat, and unless one had their legs right beside the heater. So, we had quilts to use throughout the car. If it was really cold, Daddy would bring his wool blanket and a wool long men's coat.
Mama is shown with her elbow resting on the edge of the side window.
There were no seatbelts in cars, so we could climb back and forth over the seat, when we rode in the sedan, crawl around, etc., until Daddy had his fill of that. Then he would fuss at us and we would be still for a while. We couldn't very well do that in the rumble seat, or we would fall out. Sometimes, we could sit in his lap and "help him drive", or stand on the seat beside him and see where we were going along the highway. I think I started learning to drive as soon as I could sit up and touch the steering wheel.
If the weather got really cold suddenly, or it rained, or hailed, we would move inside the cab. Mama would hold my sister, and I would curl up, with my legs on the seat, between my parents. If it was cold and bad when we started our trip, Daddy drove the sedan. We got to sit in the back seat, then.
One time, we were returning from Navarro county when it got really stormy. Mama was scared of storms and she begged Daddy to pull over. He finally did at the edge of a small town where there was a cotton gin. Since it was not that season, the gin was not being used. He pulled up to the parking area, and it began to hail. As the hail started falling heavily, Daddy pulled inside the gin. (I was more scared of getting in trouble for being in a gin than I was of the hail, and I started crying. I wondered if we were going to die, or would survive and be sent to jail for being in a gin that wasn't our's.) And Mama was crying in fear of the storm.
The sound of the hail on the gin, which was made of tin, was horrible, and we were ready to leave, even if it was hailing outside. But, we stayed until it let up. We drove out slowly, to green skies that changed to blue. I remember it being cold outside and we had to wrap up in blankets. We were all composed once more, knowing we had survived, but we completed the drive home in silence, inside the cab.
There were things to entertain us on our many drives, although we didn't have games, radio, CDplayers, laptops, or tv. All along the roads, there were the surprise signs that advertised Burma Shave. They were spaced out so that you didn't get the joke all at one time. We would read one, then wait for the next phrase, and so on for several signs. The last one always said Burma Shave.
Another thing that entertained us was for Daddy to blow his horn under every overpass. Everyone in the car had to put one hand on the ceiling of the car and make a wish. No one could talk. We had to stay that way until someone slipped and said something. The person who talked would not get their wish. It sure kept noisey kids quiet for a long while!
If we were going to Waco, we looked over the hills for the distant signs of the city. The tallest building was the Amicable building-a tall white building for an insurance company that was downtown and close to the Brazos River. We had a family tradition that the last one to spot the Amicable Building had to treat everyone else. Some people tried to lie and say they had seen it, when they really hadn't, in order to not have to buy everyone in the car a Coke or ice cream when we reached Waco. I carefully counted my change, worrying that my money would not be enough to treat everyone. Usually, a grown-up had to treat. I think they worked it that way because most of the kids didn't have but a few cents, or a dollar, if we were in a group going shopping.
There was a time when buzzards hitting windshields was a problem. A buzzard flying into a windshield could wreck a car, or even kill people. So, if a buzzard flew near, the car swerved and everyone ducked. We didn't have such an accident ourselves, fortunately. But, windshiled glass was not safety glass then, so it was a danger. I think buzzards have gotten smarter, now, as you don't see them on the highways often anymore. Occasionally they are on the side, after roadkill, but they usually circle off in the fields and definitely away from the freeways. We did count buzzards. There was a little rhyme that started "one for sorrow, two for joy, three for letter, four for boy..." that we would say. We always hoped to see at least two buzzards. If you only saw one buzzard, you had to watch it until it flapped its wings to avoid having sorrow or something bad happening.
We watched for trains, convoys of Army trucks and Jeeps, and landmarks. In those days, I wasn't looking for pictures to draw, as I do now.
We tried to teach counting by counting the telephone poles, or how many of one thing we would see, like how many red trucks, or Blue Plymouths might be on the highway before we got to a town. That was too much like math, to me, but we gave in and reluctantly participated in order for my little sister to learn counting, or, if we had a friend with us, it was something to do in the way of a game to entertain us. I got bored with it really fast and was ready to quit those games.
There were also certain landmarks that we relied on seeing with each trip.
There was a gas station that still had the gas pumps with glass on top, in which the gas was visible.
Near cities, there were tourist courts, with all their cozy little cabins.
There was a tree near a wide bridge that crossed a creek that often flooded. This was "Grandpa's Tree". Sometimes we stopped there, just south of Marlin. Trips seemed to take a long time, and we needed several rest stops. "Grandpa's Tree" was one of those places. It was named this because my great-grandfather always wanted to stop there. And, at that rest stop, they would have refreshments or a picnic and walk around a bit. I think that tree is finally gone, now. It was bulldozed to make a wider highway and bigger bridge. I hate to see that. I'm sure that they began stopping there in 1867, when he first came to Texas. After a little rest stop, we would continue across that long bridge. There were times when we had to turn around and go home because these bridges were covered with water.
In other years, there was drought and the creeks were dried up. But, the owners of that land planted something there for the cattle to feed on, and it was almost always bright green in the valley along the creek and under the bridge.
I recall another time when there were fears of Anthrax and herds of cattle were being killed. The cattle were shot, piled up, then burned. We worried that the Anthrax might spread, even on the smoke, and drift into areas where there were people and would infect humans in a disasterous epidemic. I can remember, along our drive, seeing those huge mounds of dead cattle, with smoke coming up from them, in that lush creek area, and hearing sounds of gun shots in the distance. Daddy had such a pained look on his face as he drove. I think they had already shot the cattle they needed to shoot, but I didn't have to see it.
And I felt anxiety about death and sorrow for the poor old cows. I was glad to get past there and into the city so we could look at other things. Maybe this visit, we could go to a movie, or get a treat. Usually, that didn't happen, though.
As we left my hometown, Daddy would always tell about keeping your car in good condition, with everything working properly. At the creek on the north end of town, he would tell, every trip, about a time when he and my mother were leaving town and a car had a wreck, at that very spot. There was a Mexican family in the car. The car caught on fire. Daddy stopped, along with some other men. They couldn't get the people out because the doors were wired together with coat hangers. The door handles didn't work, so they had wrapped coat hangers around the door posts to hold the doors together as they drove. The tops of the cars were made of thick cloth that looked like metal. Daddy got on top of the car and tried to pull people out. He said that he had the hand of a little girl, who was my age, and he started to pull her up. Her arm came off and she fell back into the fire. He said that all those people burned to death because they couldn't get to them. He had a pained look on his face when he told that story. He said that it really bothered him. And, he told the story almost every time he passed that spot.
Daddy had another car, a Ford sedan, that he liked to start with the crank. You could also start it inside, with a starter button, but he liked using the crank, or even to have Mama crank the car. She didn't like that very much. When he wasn't around, she used the starter button
Daddy loved cars. He loved to work on them and to drive. He never got rid of a car, until he traded in my first car. His dad, brother, and other family members had all kinds of cars, rusting away, in a pasture behind Grandpa's house. When they got a new car, they just took the old one to the pasture. There was even part of a Stutz Bearcat that had belonged to my great-aunt when she was young, in the pasture. Most of it had rotted or rusted away, but I remember the rounded little windshield and the steering wheel, and coils from the seats, pieces of wooden spokes that had been the wheels. There was quite an assortment to get rid of after they died and someone else moved onto the land.
One car that he liked to tell about was the sedan that he had when he was courting Mama. His car looked just like one that Bonnie and Clyde drove. He said that he was even chased a few times by police who mistook him for the infamous couple. That scared Mama to death. He got rid of that car, at Mama's insistance. The gang did go to that area some, so everyone was on edge.
In the drawing above, "Sunday Drive", I used my favorite drawing pencil, a #314 Draughting pencil. I like the effects that you can get with one pencil. They are hard to find in stores, now, though. The turqoise drawing pencils are good, but you have to use so many different pencils to get the effects needed. The #314 is very smooth and never scratchy.
I know that my rumble seat is a little off, but I wanted to tilt it a little so that the viewer can see inside the area a little, instead of just seeing the tops of our heads over the back end of the car.
Hope you get to have a nice Sunday afternoon drive today, without your hair blowing in your face!
And, I hope that you are enjoying my blog and will share it with others who might be interested. I have added some more links on the sidebar. These are sites I have found as I have searched for information and help with Macular Degeneration. In some of those sites, there are also a little art work and some writing by people who have experienced AMD.
As a note on the stork sites, while the storks are migrating for winter in Africa, and some of the webcams or sites are not working, there are still many pictures and much information online to enjoy. And, when the storks return, this will be an easy way to find the links to the webcams and sites to watch them as they nest in the spring. It's kind of sad to see those empty nests now. But, they will be back, if nothing happens to them between now and that time.
Be sure to check out the Artists and Authors links, and Interesting Sites on my page.
And let me know if you see something that you are interested in. I welcome your comments and support.

Back To School

Getting Ready 8.5" x 11" pencil

Good luck to everyone-students, teachers, administrators, parents, and family members-as the 2007-2008 school year gets underway. It's nice to be able to wave "goodbye" as everyone goes off to school in the morning, after so many years when I was always in a rush to get on the road to school. Of course, there were quite a few years when, as a student, my mother chased me to school with threats of using the hairbrush or a switch, and telling me, "Don't dawdle!"

In "Getting Ready", I've shown the first step in getting ready for a new school year. Shopping!

We made several trips, with Mama and great-aunts, to Marlin and Waco, to look for supplies and new clothes for school. Some mothers sewed a lot for their daughters, and mine did, too. But, the exciting new things were those that were purchased in places like specialty shops or the big department stores, with their memorable fragrances and attractions.

As soon as all my school necessities were ready, I headed across the empty lot to my friend's house. We spread out all our clothes and supplies, and compared what we would use during the coming school year.

I started to school at age 4, in the same class with my friend. Most of the other students in that class were 6. I got mad and went home, vowing to never return to school. I spent the rest of that school year, looking out the window and wishing I was at school with my friends. When school started, the year that I was 5, Daddy made me go. I was still the "baby" of the class, but I could do what all the other kids were doing.

"Getting Ready" shows me coming in the back screen door of the neighbor's house, with a sack full of clothes and supplies, another package of supplies under my arm, and a box with a new pair of shoes. Ready to go to school. As the years passed, though, there were more boxes and bags of things to share.

Hope that you have had some memorable "getting ready" experiences.

The Gully

The Gully

8.5" x 11 "

Pencil

That looks dangerous

It started as a tiny little forked line in the soil of the field. As it moved to a slight downhill slope toward the Brazos, the line deepened until it was about the depth of a finger, then to the ankle, to the calf, to the knee, and, soon, as the line was followed, it was deep enough to jump into. The wash grew increasingly deep from shoulder depth to above the head.

As little girls, we were soon climbing over outcroppings of orange and brown hardened earth, shaped by water rushing to the Brazos River through the ages.

Kathryn often invited friends and classmates out to her family's farm in Milam county, across the Brazos River from Calvert, where we went to school, and most of us lived. There were all kinds of things to do on the farm, from playing games, looking at the animals, and riding her horse. And, of course, there was the gully to explore. There might be a couple of guests or a whole group, along with our guide who must have spent a lot of time learning all about that gully as it changed.

For posterity, we carved our initials into the sides of the gully. I've shown those in my drawing. I wonder if they are still there, or have they been washed away by rain and the gully filling during times of flooding.

As usual, I was afraid, but didn't dare to show it. But I know from my hesitation to do some things, the girls all knew that I was a big sissy. I was afraid that they might just leave me out there, lost. That we might encounter a snake or a spider, or who knows what might have been out there. Something from one of the horror movies that were becoming popular or from one of the outer space movies. Maybe an escaped Prisoner of War from the POW Camp at Hearne.

But, usually, her father wasn't too far away, in case we needed him. Sure enough, there was the time that someone sprained an ankle and we couldn't finish our tour. Her father came quickly and carried the wounded explorer to the house. And, another time, when we reached the end of the gully, and the River, where large rocks spilled across the water to a large sandbar, the girls all crossed the rocks, leaving me in the gully. We planned to spend the afternoon sunbathing and just talking on the sandbar. But, when I saw the slippery rocks, with water swirling around them, I thought of all the warnings I had heard all my life, about that dangerous river. How people were often pulled under water by whirlpools, and how there was unseen quicksand that would also suck a person under. I feared that I would slip on a rock and fall into a whirlpool or quicksand. So, Kathryn got her father, who guided me across, then came back to bring me back when we were through sunbathing. I don't think the water was very deep beside the rocks, but I was sure it was treacherous. Eventually, I made it across without her father's help.

I didn't add all the girls in my drawing who went to the gully at various times since that would be too crowded. But, I did show Kathryn, with her coiled braids, urging us to come on up and over the blocked place; Missie and Pat, on the left; Sandra and Shirley who are climbing down after carving their initials on the right; and me, fearing to climb. I added a couple of other girls' initials, who I know had also visited the gully. Kathryn's sister, Joyce, and my sister, Barbara, are not in the picture. Joyce was older and I don't recall that she hung out with us, but I feel sure that she might have visited that gully at some time as she grew up. Of course, we are all dressed in girls' jeans, rolled up at the bottom, and short sleeved shirts. My braids and ribbons have come down, ribbons hanging. We wore oxfords or penny loafers and socks, rolled over. Later, the socks had to be rolled over 3 times. Tennis shoes were not in style for anything except sports that required them. Sometimes, if it was muddy, we would wear cowboy boots on our adventures.

To me, the gully was like a smaller Grand Canyon. Constantly changing, and very deep.

My sister, a visiting cousin, his wife, my aunt, and I rode out to the Brazos River last Thursday, and rode through the Bottom from Bryan to Hearne. Something the whole family used to do a lot. We have seen the tv news pictures of the flooding along the Brazos and other rivers. The Brazos was flowing swiftly with brown, racing water in our area, up to the bank, but not overflowing. Since the dam at Waco was built, we haven't seen major flooding from the River. Before the dam was built, however, I remember driving out just a little way from Hearne and Calvert, and seeing the river out of its banks, as far as I could see. Houses and fields were underwater or floating away. This happened regularly, before the dam was built. I worried that the rivers would come into town, but that didn't happen. In recent times, there were other floods, but not from the Brazos.

When my great-aunt was married, the Brazos and the Little Brazos Rivers met. I can always remember the year of her wedding as that is the year of the big flood-1913. Because of the flood, it took the preacher, who was the groom's brother, three days to get back home after the wedding.

I wonder how deep that gully is now, especially after all this rain. I do know that we are all too elderly to be climbing in a gully, these days.

"The Gully" was drawn on cardstock using a #314 Sanford Draughting Pencil.

Be sure to enjoy the links I have posted, and share my blog with anyone who you think might be interested.

Abandoned

Cozy Home 9" x 12" watercolor
My sister and I made a short trip to the old hometown today. It's sad to see so many of the old buildings and homes gone, others crumbling, and still others "restored" in ways that seem to take away the dignity that they always had. My sister has commented that, one of these days, we may drive through that town and find nothing but a pile of dust on each side of the street, where bricks have crumbled and structures collapsed.
Still, some places maintain the character that they always had.
Sometimes I wonder what they are teaching in design and architecture classes these days. I don't know why some people consider a "box" interesting, or even an accomplishment. Seems like they just put any old thing together, the easiest and cheapest way possible. It just looks like they didn't really try, to me.
Lightning and rain hit as we were on the highway. There are a lot of memories from years of driving that old highway 6 and spending time in the towns along the way. One little house and old filling station that I used to watch as I drove past, and had, for years, been almost hidden in trees, is no longer in view. I think they may have been torn down as the land was cleared for a commercial property next to them. After seeing so much restoration work done, I feel like the old interesting places could be saved. Instead, people seem to be quick to tear down anything that is old or needs work.
This little watercolor is of a small abandoned house, west of Calvert toward the Brazos River. I painted this before the house became covered with vines. I always thought it was a cozy-looking little house. Typical of many homes for workers on the farms in the area, in times gone by. A few of those little houses are still in use, but many are used for hay storage, or, like the one in my painting, are just left for nature to reclaim. Many are gone, however, as seems to happen to so many things, and people, as they grow older.
Cozy Home was done on 140 pound Arches watercolor paper, using Winsor Newton watercolors.

Hearne Golfer

Hearne Golfer 22"x 30" watercolor

Early morning at the Hearne Country Club, a distant golfer is ready to tee off.

The curving entry gates of rock repeat the materials used in the club house and swimming pool dressing room.

I've been talking, via internet, to several people about memories of Hearne and Calvert, and when we were growing up. I still wonder what kind of rocks these are. When I asked about the rocks, I was only told that they came out of the ground somewhere! I knew that much already. They remind me of iron.