Joyce Whitis

I went to town this morning. I had to do some shopping and run several errands.

When I left the house the lane down to the main road was bordered by dead trees, post oaks that looked ridiculous in their nakedness, bare limbs stretching in every direction. They seemed to have no clue about the beautiful Texas spring that is just around the corner. They just stood there beside the graveled road and watched me pass by. I felt a little depressed because they have watched me pass for more than 50 years and this morning they didnít seem impressed that I was still alive and had survived one more winter.

To say that I do not like cold weather is like saying that a salmon doesnít want to swim upstream; like saying a Polar Bear isnít wishing always for a chunk of floating ice; like saying a quarter horse doesnít want to run; like saying a high school senior doesnít want to hear Pomp and Circumstance. In other words, my most favorite in all the world temperature is 80 degrees. I become totally static in anything below 75 and at 60 am mostly inactive. So here comes the Texas spring followed by an ever so warm Texas summer that continues into November and sometimes, if Iím lucky, into December.

I spent several hours in town, shopping for supplies back at the ranch including 50-pound bags of dog food, cat food, and bird seed. While there, I also stopped by Littlejohnís to pick up a bunch of my favorite flowers because spring is on the way and that means sticking something in the ground for the Danes to dig up in efforts to find a cool spot. My Great Danes, Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee really donít want me to have flowerbeds. They identify those damp stretches of store-bought potting soil as great places to dig in and stretch out come the warm summertime so I have learned to plant my favorite flowers in pots and hanging baskets instead. In return Jackson and Lee take care of armadillos, raccoons, opossums and any other outsiders who creep into my yard under cover of darkness.

It is a good plan.

Stocked up on wonderful, beautiful, living, blooming plants, I headed back home in such a good mood that I didnít even think bad thoughts about that old brown van on the Pigeon Road in front of me going at least 32 miles an hour. I just turned KSTV on high and tried to sing along with the performers as I headed home. The day was one that the Lord had made. Perfect for just about anything you wanted to do including trailing some numbskull who was born in some other century and didnít know that the speed limit was 70.

The highway department is always working on whatever road that I take and today they had picked Pigeon Road. In fact, they have been working on the road for some time and judging from the gigantic machinery they are driving, the piles of white rock, the trailer house office, and the men in orange vests, will be working there permanently.

I just canít seem to remember to take highway 108 instead.

Today I made it through the hazards of men in orange vests waving poles with STOP and SLOW and rounding the Beyer Curve and turning onto 419, my heart leapt! The trees that were bare brown limbs when I left for town in the morning had magically sprouted green everywhere! They were beautiful. It was magical. The world was good.

Once more it will be a beautiful Texas spring all else is trivial.

God Bless Texas!