Spooks

Every summer evening the spooks come out on my back porch. They are hard to see in the yellow porch light, flattened as they are against the woodwork, even harder to see against the light colored brick. They cling to the wall or the ceiling and almost never move, and then suddenly. They are Mediterranean geckos, a feral species in this part of the country. I like them, but at first they were a little spooky. They are pale tan with splotches of darker tan, and their eyes look almost blue, so dark under such thin skin. Their little hands hold on, splayed out flat on the wood. For a long time I thought they were completely silent. But once or twice I have heard a tiny hissing when some miniature dispute over bug-stalking territory developed.
In the daytime they're gone, hiding from the sunlight behind the wood trim in the eaves, or maybe in a neglected basket of leaves. In the winter they vanish into the shed, the woodpiles, the soffitts, the garage. I know that summer is on the way when moths flutter around the porch light and the spooks materialize.
They make me remember the chameleons that lived near -- and sometimes in -- our apartment in Tallahassee when we were newlyweds. They were anoles, and they truly could change color from brown to bright green. I learned that they actually reponded to the saturation of the color around them, not the shade itself. So on a mottled bush, they'd turn mottled brownish green. On a dark solid surface, solid brown. On a bright green surface, solid green. On a bright red enameled surface of a hibachi turned upside down, likewise solid green! Those were the seventies, when the LOVE poster in bright red and green was everywhere. The anole on the hibachi produced the same visual vibration. Too bright to look at head on!
Another thing I liked about the anoles: their threat display / territorial display consisted of a series of bright green pushups followed by throwing back the head and puffing out a bright red throat sac, as if the lizard had swallowed a dime lengthwise. Push, push, push, PUFF! Push, push, push, PUFF!
I'm grateful for silent wall lizards: they consume mosquitoes. I was especially grateful to see them when we spent a week or so in Haiti on a mission trip once. Every room had its lizard or two, patrolling the malaria beat. Spooks, maybe angels, unseen almost, usually unnoticed, doing their appointed work in the corners of our busy lives.

Sunset Garden

It's been a busy day from early to late. I worked in the yard most of the morning and in the kitchen most of the rest of the day. But twice today I took time just to enjoy the garden. I enjoy working in it, but truly, most of my time in the garden is working time, early in the morning before getting ready for work. Then I look out the kitchen windows at the flowers, or go out in the yard to take the dog out. I have a chaise that I scrounged from the alley a couple of years ago. It sits on a large concrete slab on the east side of our yard, probably the floor of a shed long ago. It is shaded by my neighbor's large pecan tree. After putting in a solid hour and a half pruning the boysenberry thicket and cleaning up the wreckage, I let myself stretch out on the chaise with a cup of coffee. I thought, I work in the garden all the time, but I don't often just sit in it. It had been a good morning to work in the yard, 68 or so when I started early. Now and then a cloud deck would pass by and shade me as I worked, and there was a pleasant breeze.

After supper this evening I sat by the dining room window and looked out at the dusk, watching the colors fade. I crossed my arms on the deep window sill and gazed out at the four beds stretching from left to right across the back half of the yard. I remembered the work I had done in the morning, pruning the berry vines, putting down newspapers for mulch, weeding, setting up a rabbit fence around the short "patio" tomatoes. I thought, I wonder what birds are calling this evening? I bet I can hear a robin. I stepped to the front door, took a few steps outside. The sky was clear aqua, the air still warm and a little humid. Brilliant part of a moon, evening star. A robin fluted in the distance. Here came two women and two little girls, walking up the street, walking in the street since there isn't a sidewalk. One little girl about four years old had shoes that flashed red and orange with every step. "Hello," "Nice night for a walk," "Sure is."

Rain, Rain

We are now about 7 inches above normal annual rainfall for this time of year, and we are relatively dry compared to more central regions of Texas. Last week I was gone on business from Tuesday 'til Sunday night. I gave my 21-year-old detailed watering instructions for the yard and garden -- and he never needed to use them. It rained three times while I was gone -- amazing!

The weeds are deliriously happy. I try to pull some every day. The flower seedlings are coming right along, and the tomatoes may be the happiest of all. I am a little concerned about the okra, which is enjoying the hot afternoons but really doesn't like wet feet. I also have some sage seedlings that are looking sort of soggily discouraged. I may have to replant them.

I am beginning to see baby green tomatoes, and the cucumbers are beginning to run. The zucchini are blooming, but so far no squashes.

Reruns -- I had red verbenas come back from seed in the flower pots out front, and in the back I've seen a green and red coleus seedling, now about 4 inches tall, from the plant that sat under a mesquite tree all last summer. I had taken some cuttings of the parent plant and wintered them in the house -- so now I have a pot on the patio and a seedling out in the garden.

Austin in June

Three of us from ACU library went down to Austin Tuesday to visit a donor. You could tell we have had a rainy spring -- the flowers were lush along the roadside: meadow swaths of little yellow daisies, or white ones, standing cypress rockets of red, horsemint with its knee-high purple pagodas, banks of Indian Blanket (firewheel, gaillardia). Another indicator of how moist it has been in Central Texas: creeks and springs and glades full of water, my, my.

We came into the south end of Austin from the west, so I saw residential areas I had never seen. The limestone rocks remind me of Nashville, just with smaller trees, but lots of them. There are so many luxury homes in that area, where there are magnificent views. Some of the most spectacular are on the bluffs above the Pedernales River (pronounced LBJ-style as PERD-uh-nallis).

Tuesday evening we met Don Davis at Ironworks, a former wrought iron forge turned bbq restaurant. It sits right over a creek. http://www.ironworksbbq.com/about-us.asp We had great bbq and I think the mosquitoes also enjoyed our open-air dining. At lunch Wednesday, our host treated us to lunch at Green Pastures, a late 19th century mansion turned fine restaurant. http://greenpastures.citysearch.com/ We ate in the Music Room, with an immense antique piano at one side. Both meals were the finest of their kind, but at completely different ends of the spectrum.

On the way back Wednesday we ate supper at Hard Eight Pit BBQ in Brady, Texas. The pitmaster greets you outside the entrance, opens the immense smoker, and cuts the meat you point out. I had chicken, but they also serve quail, goat, and of course turkey, ham, beef, and sausage. After getting your cut of meat on a paper lined tray you proceed to the inside, choose your side dishes (beans and bread are free) and drinks, pay, and then proceed to wooden seats mounted on posts in the floor. The trestle style tables have spindles of paper towels, condiments, whole loaves of Mrs. Baird's bread, and huge jars of jalapenos. Eating with fingers is required, but you can get implements for the beans, potato salad, cornbread salad, and pie. Or you could probably just grab one of the many sets of antlers adorning the room and stab at your food.

As we left the restaurant Beth and I met a young man with a bandana head rag and a jawline beard smoking at one of the outside tables, accompanied by an immense and friendly black and tan long haired dog. He said she rides in his pickup inside on the seat with a seatbelt. I could believe it. She might even drive, she looked so intelligent. She wasn't smoking, but I think she had been eating barbeque.

We returned with a dozen boxes of books and memorabilia. Mark estimates that's ten percent of what we will eventually receive for preservation.

All the way down and back we talked library shoptalk, of course, but just for fun I got Mark started on auto racing. He's a very knowledgeable fan. I always learn something. In fact, we had to stop at Gordon Motors in Brady so Mark could peer in the display window at the restored vintage automobiles on display. When he and Barbara lived in Indiana, they knew driver Tony Stewart's family.