We are swiftly coming to the end of my first year as a resident of the Texas Hill Country. I left Chattanooga on August 2nd, 2008, the day after the opening of my production of Wonder of the World, which seems as if it closed just last week. I took two days to drive the nearly 1,100 miles between homes – it would have gone a bit quicker if I had taken the southern-most route, but I missed a turn in Meridian and drove too far toward Dallas. [I knew I shoulda turned left in Albuquerque!]
We choose a tough year to live down here. In addition to the national economic meltdown, the entire mid-Texas area is struggling through a record-setting drought – with rainfalls as low as 10% of normal at times and often weeks between the modest rainfalls – which has lasted nearly two years, now. This summer has also been very hot, with more than 45 days in the past two months over 100 degrees – including every day for more than three weeks just passed. It’s a little like Chinese water torture when day after day passes and no rain or cooler temperatures are anywhere in sight – but we remain optimistic. As they say around here, every day brings us closer to the rain coming back.
Because of the lack of rain, Cypress Creek – the spring-fed waterway that runs along Mary’s property - has stopped flowing for the first time in many, many years. The deeper pools are now isolated by large humps of exposed creek-bed, and the fish and other wildlife have moved into those, hoping – as we do – for things to get wetter. The deer are more and more visible, as they find their ways to man-made oases of greenery. I scared up a herd of more than 20 – some bucks with new racks of antlers already sprouting – in Mary’s back pasture last week. They were only temporarily displaced, and weren’t hurting anything anyway because the cows that had been boarding there have been sold to eliminate the bill for supplemental feed made necessary by the poor condition of the pastures. Thankfully, Mary’s well remains wet, and no more severe hardships have befallen.
Despite the feeling that time has simply stopped in a dry, hot place on the calendar, we are still moving toward the start of a new school year. Sarah has already finished track camp, and begins band camp next week. Maddee will be starting cheerleading practice next week as well. We are all looking forward to ending summer’s monotony, though some grumble about it a bit more than others.
And so the days follow apace – each pretty similar to the one before. I have tuned several more pianos, and I’m beginning to think this might become a steady practice, though I continue to apply for jobs when I can and try to make consulting contacts every so often. We’ve been doing a lot of work unpacking the house – many of our boxes seeing the first light of day since our move from Chattanooga. (We have far too much stuff!)
I’ve been noting some odd parallels – actually opposites – between Michigan Winters and Texas Summers:
- In Michigan, you avoid cold weather by staying indoors or bundling up if you have to go out. In Texas, you avoid the heat by staying indoors – unfortunately, once you’re naked there’s no more you can do clothing-wise to avoid the excess heat.
- In Michigan, you can’t drive your car until it warms up, and you have to be careful to scrape the frost off the windows – even if you just left the car a half hour ago. In Texas, you can’t drive the car until the super-heated air is allowed to escape, and you have to be careful about touching things like the seat belts and the steering wheel before they’ve cooled down – even if you just left the car a half hour ago.
- In Michigan, we enjoy the mid-day hours when the sun can warm the air to a reasonable temperature. In Texas, we enjoy the morning and late-night hours, when the sun stops heating the air to unreasonable temperatures.
- Avoiding frostbite and avoiding heatstroke require similar vigilance.
- Cabin fever is the same whether you are trapped by hot or cold – and only a break in the weather can help in either case. Of course, you can always brave the elements, but extremes of either hot or cold can be deadly.
Ultimately, I have to say that things balance out. When you add in the fact that I’ve never thrown out my back shoveling the sunshine off my driveway, I think the balance may shift southerly.
I really do try not to complain – even about the weather; I’m afraid it may sound as if I regret the choice we made to move here. Not so. Jane has thoroughly enjoyed the proximity to her family, and the girls seem to be thriving in the small-town culture. And I have been grateful for the distinct lack of anything that could seriously be called a problem for the entire past year. All in all, life is pretty good.
I’m not sure why my contributions to the Blog dropped off so precipitously – I’m sorry that this is the first posting in several weeks – but it just hasn’t seemed that anything was worth writing down. If you’re reading this, drop a comment below to give me some encouragement. Thanks, all.
