Signs of spring at the Ranch

By Bebe and Sissy Fenstermaker

We hear the South Texas brush is blooming and the fragrance is that of honey. Must be wonderful. Up here, we are inhaling the fragrance of agarita. The prickly bushes are crowded with pretty yellow blossoms, which is pretty amazing since we had a two-day ice storm just as the buds were opening. The temperature stayed below 28 degrees the first day and barely climbed into the low 30s the next. Even so, the agaritas are declaring themselves in that unmatched fragrance. This is the good part of spring because the agaritas are closely followed by mountain laurel's purple grape-like closeness. Of course, the earliest of all are the anemones, which sometimes begin in a warm January. They usually are the starry lavenders or whites, but finding a pink one is most notable. There is one by the ranch gate this morning. I saw it when I drove down to feed the heifers.
There is sunshine this morning. We have not had any for at least two weeks straight. Every morning has been gloomy, misty, and very moist. I'd swear we were in England when looking out toward the barn and seeing horses grazing in the mist. The grass greened up and grew but there are no buds showing on the yard plants. Without sunshine, they don't feel like doing much. Only the weeds have had a happy time. They don't seem to have missed the sun at all.
The weather, staying cool along with the cloudiness, prevented my starting any vegetable seeds outdoors. Last Friday I threw in the towel and called our friend Eleanor. She had been laid up with a broken ankle and I knew she was late setting out seeds, too. She has a greenhouse, however, so Sissy and I took all my seed, collected Eleanor's, and planted nearly everything in trays in the greenhouse. Since at one time she intended to establish a mule-driven truck farm, Eleanor had a minimum of two seed packets per vegetable and flower. Combined with mine, there were a great many seeds to set, and we worked for hours. Of course, that is the best kind of work in the world, even when one's back has said "enough!" So far the striped French marigolds, fancy lettuces, and nicotianas are up. Nothing yet from the peas, chiles, heirloom tomatoes, or herbs. We seemed to have an awful lot of flowers for our vegetable gardens. Not to worry, though, I intend to create a Texas-French potager with mine. I know this will take several years but it is my dream. My potager will be a lovely garden of raised beds (each nicely walled with something interesting) and pathways. It will be organized so that I can rotate crops easily and rest certain plots. It will be filled with flowers, too, along with vegetables. Last summer as I watched a creek shoot through the vegetable garden/corral, I realized a serious drainage system had to be established. The pathways will act as drains in case we ever have a 40-inch rain all at one time again. (Our unfunny rainfall total since last July is now hitting 75 inches. We could be in England or even Oregon.)
The oak trees decided this week was the week to drop all their leaves. I have never noticed such an instant shedding, so it must be the combination of warmth and moisture. One day there were no leaves in the feeding troughs, the next day there was a ton. When the oaks are leafless, the noises from the road are easy to hear. I just hope people on the road can hear Manuel's fighting hens exploding off their nests after laying. They are so loud and hysterical that my unconscious reaction is to think something is after them. If they didn't lay so well there would be absolutely no redeeming feature about them. And I know they are lying in wait to shred my vegetables when they are planted. I have a surprise in store for them; they won't be around to any shredding because my friend Ed has volunteered to take them. He seems to appreciate nearly wild chickens that defy being organized. I'm placing an order for some slow, stout, quiet, puttering hens that, although certain to be raccoon fodder, will at least know to roost before midnight.

Bebe Fenstermaker

The day was perfect for reading or writing. It was foggy and moisture was dripping from everything. The stillness inside was broken by a clock ticking and an occasional drip on the tin roof. Beads of water on the grass caught the light, giving the lawn a sparkling look. Further out, the pear tree in full bloom stood out very white against the dark line of cedars and oaks. The lunatic white hens were busy running across the yard in search of delectable morsels. They wandered in and out of my view through the front window, closely followed by the peacock herding them in whatever direction suited him. The day before, he and the dogs discovered one of those silly hens sitting on a pile of eggs right in the middle of a prickly pear patch. With a little stick, I poked and prodded each egg out from under her and rolled it to a spot where I could reach it. Towards the end of the ordeal she got testy and began pecking me as I gingerly reach through the pads for the eggs. Then she decided to just sit there while the rest of the birds went to roost. Irritated, I grabbed a stouter stick and went back up to prod her off the nest. She was very vocal in her disgust. I had slightly kinder thoughts of her later as I enjoyed the eggs.
Isabel is a licensed electrician who works with her husband, also an electrician. As a woman working in a field traditionally regarded as a male bastion, she knows what discrimination is. However, her sense of humor helps her through the rough spots. Once, while wiring a house, the owner showed up and caught her on the ladder busy working. In a brusque tone he asked what she was doing. Isabel said she was working on the wiring, to which he exclaimed, "You can't do that!" She shot back, "Damn, I sure wish somebody had told me that before I wired this house!" With that the owner just burst out laughing. Another time she and her husband were assessing the wiring for a customer. She was shaking her head by the end of their inspections. He asked if things were up to code. "My dear," she said, "I haven't seen anything yet that is code." Isabel works well with customers who are anxious about the visual appearance of the finished project. Safety, however, is her first and major concern.
Bebe and I were surprised on our way to San Antonio a few days ago to see a group of people climbing the incline at the edge of the interstate. They carried a banner and as we whizzed by I caught the word lemon and the name of a homebuilding company out of S.A. who is on the news almost nightly because of the shoddy work they do. Those folks had come all the way out here from S.A. to demonstrate and call attention to the fact that the builder has now come out our way to "enhance" the neighborhood -- not! Boerne even welcomed them into their midst! I guess it will be just a matter of time before complaints start from those areas.

Sissy Fenstermaker