Meanwhile Back at the Chanel Counter

Do you know that there is not a single Chanel counter in Round Top, Bleiberville, Nelsonville or Bellville?  The makeup sample from the Chanel counter at Macy’s is perfect and I need some.  So it’s time to windup, or rewind or unmosey or quit meandering and gear up to get back to Houston.  Besides our whole vocabulary was changing.  We would sit on the front porch and in the distance we would hear the crunch of the dirt road of an approaching car.  Gary would look at me and say “Is somebody coming down our lane?”  Just like you see on television….there we sat looking a little Ma and Pawish as we rocked and looked out over the countryside.  We found ourselves saying things like yonder and waving at folks as we passed them on the two lane roads.  Don’t get me wrong.  We had a wonderful time.  We went into Roundtop and ate at Royer’s Café.  I told Bud that I had taken his picture at a wedding that I had photographed and that he had catered.  It was a great picture of him looking at his pies.  Susan said, “He looks at his pies like we look at our grandchildren.”  We wondered on the town square.  Liz, my friend and assistant extraordinaire, watched the older man sweep the steps of the general store.  We got terribly lost on the backroads and I was sure glad we had allowed enough time to get back to Bleiberville and Cemetery Road.  But I’m feeling a little antsy and wondering if I am a little more of a city girl than I thought that I was on Saturday.  I just need to go into a department store.  I love it that in about one hour and change I can get out into the beauty of Washington County, but I also love it that I can get back to Houston in the same amount of time.  The people that drove out were delightful.  I am so glad that we shared this beauty of this place in a spectacular wildflower season.  But it is time to get back to the studio and the glorious life that Houston offers.  Bye Bye Bluebonnets.  See you next year Indian Paintbrushes.  You outdid yourselves.  As Jimmy Buffet says in one of his songs, “Everybody take a bow.”

 
 
 
 

Singer, Singer, Listner

 

We are on the front porch and the birds are still practicing for their upcoming performance.  It is the most amazing combination of beautiful tunes……until…… Well, let me back up and tell you about Fred.  Fred and Judy are the friends that own “OUR” place.  They have been a big influence on our family.  They have hired my children to work in their businesses when Curt and Kristen were in high school.  They have shared their homes for photography sessions, surprise birthday parties, hosted Kristen’s bridesmaid luncheon at their house and a provided a place for my daughter, Kristen and her bridesmaid’s to dress before the wedding.  It looked like we were in the English countryside at a beautiful manor until you watch the video by Dick Mortenson, the must have videographer for your wedding, and hear the Rice football game in late November (they live across the street from Rice stadium) and hear that so and so is on the so and so yard line and about to score.  But as Judy reminded me and I have told you before, that Kristen’s wedding didn’t have to be perfect to be perfect.  Now how many wedding video’s do you know about that have a football game being broadcast over the audio?  Brings a smile to my face every single time I watch it.  Judy and Fred are giving, sharing people.  Fred is a man of his word.  If he says he is going to be there, he will not only be there, but be there on time and probably just a little early to be safe.  Judy and I have so much fun entertaining our selves that we just get hysterical over the silliest of things.  She also has the beauty bug and we once spent hours in a San Diego drugstore smelling and sniffing and deciding what soap smelled the best.  We welcome new little treasures that we find while we are out poking around in the nearest antique store.  We say “Welcome aboard little buddy” and we both know what that line means.  We have bought something that we didn’t need but really wanted.  But back to Singer, Singer Listener.  Fred is full of funny jokes and funny stories.  He always has a joke for any occasion.  Some have been recycled several times, but I get such a kick out of him telling it, that I would be disappointed if he didn’t.  For the life of me, I don’t see how he stores that may jokes in his head.  One of his stories is when he was in school, the teacher was determining who was a good singer and I guess, to be able to sing in the choir or some singing event.  She went down the row pointing to students saying singer, singer , but when she got to Fred she said listener.  A whole blog could be devoted to how people’s comments determine how we feel about ourselves.  Anyway, all these beautiful birds are singing their songs and some bird to my left showed up and I’m betting that his teacher had just told him he was a listener.  But he was out there trying to join the chorus.  He just sat over on the limbs of the trees trying his best to be apart of the songs.  Singer, Singer, Listener.

    

The Texas Bule Step, The Morning After

Now I know why Leon Hale (Long-time Houston Post and Houston Chronicle columnist on all things “Texas” – now semi-retired) sits on his front porch to write so often. The sounds of the country are so different from the sounds of the city. I opened the door and heard a cow bawling in the distance. I wondered if he was like my grandchildren calling for his mother to get up and come play. Maybe he wanted a smoothie just like Sarah does when she wakes up. When I walked down the path to photograph the bluebonnets just waking up, a hawk flew out of the old wooden barn and took off for work. While I was making coffee to drink in the rocking chair on the porch, three vivid red birds were literally frolicking in the front yard right outside “my” kitchen window. By the time I got my camera, they were gone. They were unbelievably red and looked so comfortable in the country. I wondered if they felt sorry for their city slicker cousins that had to live in people’s backyards or manmade bird sanctuaries.

I have always considered myself a city girl. Amarillo was way too small and slow for me. Austin and Houston were more my style. When my son lived in NYC and London, I lived vicariously through his AMAZING subway adventures, his late nights in SOHO & Midtown and his Upper West Side “cool” city apartment shared with three other guys and an occasional rat. Why every time we talked to him, without fail, we could hear the fire truck’s siren as it raced past his window from the firehouse down the street. How could anyone live in the country? Why, it’s so quiet out in the country. I like the sounds of the city. Now, I am saying, “Why, it’s so quiet out here! Isn’t it grand!?” Why would anyone run off for a vacation in a manmade resort when they could soak up nature that is right in front of us? All morning the birds have been rehearsing a song that I haven’t heard sung in the city.

Don’t get me wrong, I still like big city things and trips to big city places; now, I just value what I didn’t understand at an earlier age. Aunt Evelyn, (you’ve met Aunt Evelyn in my blog to Isabella back in June) lived out in the country near San Angelo. She loved birds and I particularly remember her having a love affair with a red bird that visited quite often. She had a great collection of china birds. I decided that I would collect bird figurines, too. Or did she give them to me….I can’t remember….maybe it was the horse figurines that I decided to collect because, Mollie, Aunt Evelyn’s daughter, and my first and only girl cousin, collected them as well. Well, I have long packed those bird and horse figurines away in a box for china and crystal and other grown up girl things. I think I will go home and see if I can find them. They will remind me of fond memories with important people in special places.

I think I am beginning to understand why Aunt Evelyn got up so early out there in that quiet, peaceful countryside. This morning I find myself singing “You Ask me What I Like About Texas,” one of my favorite Gary P. Nunn songs, and Cory Morrow’s song, “Texas Time Traveling” as I finish writing this and head to Round Top for a late breakfast.

The Texas Bule Step, Day One

Day One of the Texas Blue Step was an exhilarating success. The manicured old house was the only thing that remained calm. The cars arrived with people with happy smiles on their faces and, “Oh my gosh, this is beautiful!” and “Oh, the fragrance floating in the air!” coming out of everyone’s mouth. The children spilled out of their cars and rushed into the field of bluebonnets.

The bluebonnets were insisting on taking center stage while allowing the Indian paints to be supporting actresses. I am sure that they were actresses and not actors because they were so well dressed. My grandmother would have called them “fixie.” “Fixie” was an adjective she used to describe a woman that liked to dress up who was always dressed stylishly from head to toe. Well, these bluebonnets and Indian Paints were mighty fixie. Of course, the grasses had to get in on the show. They were waving and bowing and whispering sweet words to all the children hoping that they would run through their long tickly fingers. The old barn was happy to stay in the background and just look worn and full of experience. The wooden fences loaded with pale yellow antique roses called some to just peek through the boards and leave the bluebonnets to take an intermission. The last little girl went swinging on the old red gate laughing the whole time while grasping her bouquet of bluebonnets that she was taking to her grandmother. She was quite sure that her grandmother had not EVER had a real live Texas Bluebonnet Bouquet. I wish I could have been there to capture the look on Lily’s grandmother’s face as Lily handed her hand picked (literally) gift to her grandmother.

Which leads me to why you drive a little over an hour for this bluebonnet experience. Sure you can find a place on the busy intersections in Houston or a spot near the airport. Why just imagine those wonderful four wheelers whizzing by to complete the picture and the car fumes wafting through the air! Instead, the drive out to Bleiblerville gives you a chance to leave those big-city cares behind and recharge. The last turn takes you by the two bearded goats that I am sure appear occasionally in the play “The Three Billy Goats Gruff.” Or gives you a chance to wave at the palomino horse that is grazing in the grasses with the light rimming down his back and mane. The smells of the country complete the picture. Well, I guess I can’t forget the Texas flag that was waving at everyone that passed by the entire time I was shooting. When I got up this morning to photograph in the early light, he was still asleep…..worn out from standing guard over this beautiful Texas countryside.

I hope that every time “they” look at their portraits, they will recall an over the top experience that their family will talk about for years to come. And maybe they will join me in thinking, “Thank God for Texas!”

I’ve been to the bluebonnet country and I’m inspired. Sure it takes a lot of determination to clear the calendar and actually get out of town…..even if it’s just to Bleiberville. You know Bleiberville, it’s just west of Bellville and north of Nelsonville. We were so far out into the bluebonnet country that we ran into long-time Houston Chronicle columnist and chronicler of all things “Texan,” Leon Hale, in Carmine near Winedale. Oh, I love that part of Texas. By the time I turned off at Sealy I was beginning to unwind, by the time I hit Bellville I was totally relaxed and by the time I pulled up in front of the red gate and looked down the path with lush green grasses on my left, the flower covered house with rustic wood fences in front of me and the bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrushes to the right of me, I was totally inspired and looking for someone to photograph.

Now that is where you come in. There are a few more spaces left next weekend in my planned bluebonnet portrait sessions and someone is going to be mighty happy that they carved out the time to get their families and/or children to the bluebonnets. This month’s Texas Monthly in its “The Manual” column (On all things “Texan”) feature says, “No Texas home is complete without a bluebonnet photograph over the mantel.”

And, although the bluebonnets are later than usual because of the colder than usual winter, those in the know say that it is going to be a banner year for them! Now you know why we endured all the cold weather; just so you would have a beautiful bluebonnet or Texas countryside portrait above your fireplace. Here are a few I Phone pictures (I was so into “just relaxin’ that I didn’t even take a camera with me. BIG mistake!) that I took while gazing around the house we are using as home base. Next year might not be the same and “right now” only happens right now.

I’m inspired! Come share it with me.

Being Authentic

The leather of the saddle, the twirled pattern of the rope, and the roughness of the blanket lay atop the smooth, polished wood of the casket. Inside lay the remains of someone that I wish I had known. From everything that everyone said, he was an authentic person. He was a country boy and, from what all his friends and family said, proud of it and content to be who he was. I know his family by going to church with them. His grandfather was Bob Onstead, one of the founders of the Randall’s grocery store chain in Houston. His mother is a friend. Not close, but oh so likeable and sweet. Just a few days before Michael got sick, his mother and sister and I were talking about fun things, not knowing that this cloud was looming on the near horizon. That is why I was at the funeral. I didn’t know him, but I knew his family. I wish I had known him, known him really well. The stories that were told sounded like someone who had fun, someone who stood up for his family and his friends, someone who liked to go to bed early (The family called him Smoke because one minute he was there and all of a sudden he had disappeared - gone to bed.), someone who let you know by his actions what he believed in. His family by their actions let me know, once again, what they believed in. They continued to say, “ God is good” despite the horrible circumstances of a 35 year old man that died too soon leaving a young wife and two precious daughters. It drove me to read in my Message Bible in Isaiah. The foreword said that we could either be shaped by the world or be shaped by the word of God. Our choice. Michael’s family chose to be shaped by the word of God. They read it, they believed it, they lived it and they inspired me. As we left the sanctuary, Willie Nelson was singing, “My Heroes have Always been Cowboys.” Next were more “church” songs.

I couldn’t help but ponder, “If I couldn’t have flowers on my casket, what would my family choose to put on it?” Pictures of my husband, children and grandchildren, my Mom and Dad, my sweet in-laws, my wonderful loyal friends. Maybe a few cameras that I have held to capture images of those special individuals. Fun times that we have shared. Funny stories that made us laugh ----together. Scriptures that kept me going. Think about it. If you didn’t put the traditional flowers on your casket, what would it be?

Michael, thanks for inspiring me without ever getting to know you. Thanks for calling me to be authentic.