The Old Featherbed

This old dirt road girl started out her life in Frankfurt, Germany. My Dad was from Ulm, Germany and my Mom was from Vienna, Austria. My Dad joined the US Air Force and was stationed in Germany when I was born. I was just shy of  2 when when he was transferred back to the States, but we spent lots of summers and Christmas Holidays in Germany. I have so many good memories from those days. I was quite the stylish baby. LOL.

                                     

One of the things I always loved when we visited was the featherbeds.  I felt like Heidi (a favorite childhood read) when I was tucked beneath those puffy feathers. It felt luxurious to snuggle into them, not unlike a nest. I remember reading Heidi, and later, Gone with the Wind, while nestled safely midst the downy warmth.

Anyone remember John Denver's song, Grandma's Featherbed?

Grandma's Featherbed

My grandmothers always believed that it was healthier and that you slept better in a cold room, so they both kept windows open at night. Winter, spring, summer, fall...the windows were at least cracked during the night. We still like to sleep in a cool room although open windows are banned when the mercury drops into the 20's.

I have 2 twin sized featherbeds  that my parents brought with them from Europe 60 years ago. 

 We lived in Colorado for 5 years and then Daddy was transferred to Texas where featherbeds were not needed, but they kept them packed away and passed them on to us when we married. 

 The little pink and blue  snaps were still in the little tub mom kept them in.  

They keep the duvet from shifting. So old school. So filled with memories. It transported me instantly back to Vienna.

                                            

It was -5 the other morning so a few days earlier, they were washed, aired out and back in business

                                  

When I pulled them out a few weeks ago, I wondered whether these featherbeds  ever wonder how they made it from the streets of Vienna and Germany to the end of a dirt road in New Mexico.

                                    

                                 

Sometimes I ask myself the same question about me. 😄

                            

Blast From the Past

 If you'll indulge me a little this morning, I have a little bit of a backstory to this post. My mom was from Vienna, Austria and she married a young Air Force GI in 1963. My Daddy was from Ulm, Germany but he joined the Air Force and they were sent to Aurora, Colorado in 1965. My mom couldn't speak English or drive a car and one of these days, I'll post about their story, but it's not pertinent to today's post.

The first week they were in Aurora, she packed me in a stroller and took me to a nearby park where she met another young German mom who had a toddler son and they became instant best friends for life. A few months later, my mom got very sick and ended up in the hospital with a collapsed lung. I stayed with Tante (Aunt in German) Frieda during the day, while my Daddy was at work, until my mom came home. On a side note - my mom's name was Elfriede too.

My mom passed away 3 years ago, but I am still in touch with Tante Frieda. We visited over the phone at Christmas and she said she was going to send me something that would make me laugh. This, along with some Christmas Stollen arrived

42 years ago today, I was on the front page of the San Antonio, Texas paper and Tante Frieda kept the page my mom sent her...for 42 YEARS! She also sent me the announcement I sent her when our son was born eight years later. I love that she still had these and sent them to me. 

My parents had that picture framed and on the wall in their home. I remember that day as if it were yesterday.

It was January 13, 1982. I was a senior in high school and such a tomboy. I was just huddled in a pen, waiting to weigh my lamb (JD) for the Stock Show. It was so cold and a guy walked by and just snapped a picture. He then told me he was a reporter for the paper and he asked my name. Never dreamed I'd be a covergirl. 😂😂 

Thanks for the walk down memory lane, Tante Frieda! I'm trying to reconcile the fact that that high school senior is turning 60 in 9 days! Don't blink!

1000

I never had a vision when I began this little blog in September 2007. I just wrote because I loved writing and I wanted to document our days. What we did. How we cooked. Where we lived. Who we were. And I never really thought about folks stopping by to visit. But you did. And you do. And thank you for doing so. This dirt road will always welcome you

So I thought I ought to document the fact that I have pretty much talked about this... and that... and not much... for 1000 posts.  😄 I know I'm not a daily blogger. I love it, but it takes time and I can't always make it happen. I often write in my head, but actually getting a post published is a different story. I'm in awe of those of you who do post regularly. I've tried to post a little more lately, but I can already tell it's not going to last. I can't keep up, but I miss writing and connecting with ya'll when life gets busy.

What I share is never newsworthy, or earth shattering, or enlightening. It's just a peek into my simple life. My quiet days. My busy kitchen. My quilting adventures. My passion for this lifestyle. My love for my family (yes, that includes Skeet!). And a profound gratefulness to God every single step of the way

It seems as if blogging is no longer in vogue, but I've never been one to follow the crowd.

Even as a child I took the road less traveled and I'm so glad that I stayed on it because it led me to the end of the dirt road where life is sweet. (photo taken by our girl when we were on a walk a few years ago)
                               

Bloom Where You Are Planted Quilt

Bloom Where You Are Planted

That has always been one of my favorite sayings and I really had to put it into action when we moved here 11 years ago. It was a really difficult transition for me to move from our beloved mountains to this flat desert. It took me a couple of years to acclimate and I was obstinate about accepting the change. God wanted to bless us here and I kept pitching a hissy fit and telling Him that I did not understand why He planted us here. But He makes no mistakes and all of His plantings are intentional...and perfect.

I wrote this a few days ago to post about this quilt today and then this morning I opened up my devotional and read this:

I am  going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert...There I will give her back her vineyards. (Hosea 2:14-15) -from Streams in the Desert Devotional

The NKJ version reads:
 Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
Will bring her into the wilderness,
And speak comfort to her.
I will give her the vineyards from there,
And the Valley of Anchor as a door of hope;
She shall sing there,
As in the days of her youth,
As in the day when she came up from the land  of Egypt.

Yep, Perfect timing, once again.

I'm an optimist by nature. A glass half full kind of gal. Make the best of it. Cowboy up. Hitch up your britches and get on with it, but I struggled with this. I was still thankful for this lifestyle, and for each moment with hubby and the chiddlers, but I sure did miss those mountains.

It took a while, but soon, I began to see the beauty in this land:

The blessings that bloomed in the most unlikely places:

And so I continue to bloom where He has planted me and I've come to love this land. I am always amazed of the desert wildflowers that grow in this place of little rain and since it is really hard to grow blankets of wildflowers here, I decided to change my medium from seeds, to fabric.

For some time, I've had the hankering to make a simple wildflower patchwork quilt. I've collected floral fabric for a a few years, gathering bits and pieces that appealed to me here and there:

I finally set about cutting 5" squares from each fabric and stitching them into pairs last fall. I'm fairly certain that I had photos, but they seem to have vanished.

I wanted simple with flowers just tossed about in wild abandon and I wanted a whole mess of them:

Mission accomplished. :)

A Step Back in Time

I hope you'll indulge me a bit here. I wanted to keep a record of some childhood memories and of a place that I carry with me still today.

                                  

This little gem of a town is nestled deep in the Texas Hill Country... and in my heart. As a child,  I felt drawn to this place. My folks bought the original Wimberley house, on the Blanco River, on Flight Acres Road, in the 70's and we would pack up and head for the hills every Friday afternoon and then, much to my chagrin, we would point the car back towards the city lights on Sunday. My Mom was a real estate broker and sold land in the area and she spent weekends showing prospective clients the charms of owning a piece of heaven. In the summers, we would spend weeks at a time here.

                               

I never wanted to leave and I remember being quite put out with my folks on a weekly basis for not letting me live there. It made perfect sense for them to pack up their lives and let their only child live out her days along the river. Couldn't they see how this was the only place she could breathe? Couldn't they understand how her heart shattered every Sunday when they pulled out of the drive?

And believe it or not, I wasn't a very dramatic child. :) It's true, but gosh darn, I wanted to live in Wimberley. I just felt like I belonged there and a very serious injustice was taking place.                              

Mom and I made a trip back there a few weeks ago. I hadn't been back in almost 20 years. I was apprehensive about going back. I treasure the years I spent there and I didn't want anything to change, Of course it had, but the charm and the memories were still there.

I spent many a summer day slouched in an inner-tube lazily floating the waters of the Blanco River. We would load up in my truck

                                   

and someone would often drop us off at the bridge and we would float down about 5 miles to my folks' place and stop off for a Coke or a tall glass of sweet sun tea. In later years, we just tied styrofoam coolers to one of the inner-tubes and then we would float down another 5 or 6 miles to a friend of my folks' home and pop out of the water there and then catch a ride back.

I spent many a summer night  shuffling around the old town square to the sound of tunes like, "Silver Wings" and "Luckenbach Texas" and "Family Tradition" during the street dances with bands that always included a fiddle. Alas, they have since built a rock partition right across the square and street dances are a thing of the past. :(

                               

I swung many a tennis racket on the courts and many a leg over the backs of the horses at the stable when we gave trail rides. The tennis courts are abandoned and in a sad state of disrepair now and the road to the stables was roped off. I doubt it even exits these days. I worked at the petting zoo, watching the spider Monkey (Ollie) snack on Life Savors, and chastising the llama when he once again spat on the little boy and made him cry, and gave pony rides on Thunder and Popsicle to small children who's faces lit up, even as their chubby little hands gripped the saddle horn for dear life. I whiled the hours away when business was slow, visiting with friends like, Steve, the patrolman, who kept an eye on hooligans like us.

                              

Anyone who knows me will get a good laugh at that picture. A die hard Aggie wearing a UT shirt. I will say it was a gift when I was but a child, but I hope Aggies everywhere will forgive me and let me keep my diploma.

I hung out at the Marina where we rented paddle boats and mooned over the cute boy who worked behind the counter and played "Bread" and "Chicago" records on the turn table that was propped open with an extra canoe oar. Don't think anyone has had a boat in here in a while:

                              

I blushed when Randy Grace met my Daddy and mispronounced my last name horribly and asked if he could take me out. He had the cutest drawl and blue eyes. :)

I drove all over on a friend's dirt bike and had to fess up to my folks when we wrecked and  I limped into the Sales Office with a pretty good battle wound that leaked gravel for a good week and left me with crutches and  a pretty scarred knee for life. I was happy as a clam though because Scott Harris thought it was really cool. :)

I raked countless leaves and sorted through endless piles gathering pecans from the trees that were scattered across the yard, but the chore was always eased with a friend by my side.

                                

I spent evenings in Hippie Hollow listening to Danny and Ben tell their wild stories as Homer strummed  his guitar and serenaded everyone with his talented voice and musical concertos.

And many a day in river attire, working up an appetite with good friends who were always willing to ham it up for the camera:

                                 

I slung many a pizza at Wimberley Willie's Pizza joint and waited with baited breath for my first and only teenage crush to walk through the door.

We hung out at 7-A Ranch which was an old west tourist town

                                

                               Photo Courtesy of Google images advertisement for Wimberley

And lived in cut off's and splashed in Jacob's Well for days on end:

                                 

I lied to my folks when I told them I was spending the night at Wendy's house and she lied to hers and said she was spending the night at mine and we piled into a Suburban filled with friends and drove all the way to Austin to go dancing at The Broken Spoke. I was a really good kid and I'm pretty sure that was the only time I lied to my folks. I think I fessed up when I was probably 40.

I recall watching many a movie at the old drive in - The Corral - you drove up and then walked through a cedar fence gate and sat on old wooden bleachers to enjoy a movie under the stars. Popcorn was 25 cents and splinters were free.

                                     

You can still go to the show here! However, they still use the old movie reels and movies today are digital and shown on new projectors so The Corral is in danger of closing. There are various businesses in town that are donating percentages of their proceeds to saving The Corral and purchasing an up-to-date movie projector. Its good to know that some things are worth saving.

I remember piling into trucks and heading to New Braunfels to kick up our heels at the Crystal Chandelier a couple  times a month when "Ace in the Hole" aka George Strait - would play. Cover charge: 50 cents!

My folks sold the place in the late 90's, but our kids soaked in a little bit of the Blanco River magic when they were young:

River Rats in the making

And the couple living there now, seem to love it and have taken good care of it:

                               

Wimberley is as dry as I've ever seen it though. You'd be hard pressed to float down the river these days. It would be 'Bottoms Up' all the way!

                                

See? Can you blame me for having wanted  to live there? It's almost scary how fast those memories came rushing back. We enjoyed visiting with old friends and I learned that some things never change because I still was not ready  to leave.

Photo courtesy of Google images advertisement for Wimblerey

But, when I did leave, I took a whole lot of  treasured memories with me.

Sunday Morning Escape

As much as I love to cook for the crew during our Cow Works, THIS is what really makes me happy

Getting to spend time behind the camera lens just speaks to my soul. The pictures are never extraordinary, but they are small snippets into my world and I become so immersed in the view that I get lost. I wish I could capture the smell of the air on Sunday morning. This was the first morning I reached for my jacket and I was elated! 45° and glorious!

We took Sunday off. Well, sort of. There really are no days off on a ranch. I still fixed breakfast although it was served at the leisurely hour of 6 am, and DH and Grandpa still saddled up.

They moved a few head around

and brought a couple more in

and I took advantage of the free morning and snapped a few shots.

 At 75, Grandpa still looks smart a horseback:

                           

And I will never tire of taking pictures of this man working

                                         
                                               
I asked him to turn around

                                     

and he said, "But that is my best side".

                                    
Rascal.

                                             

He will never pose for a picture so what you see is what you get

                                     
 but I'm not complaining. :)

I revealed in the crisp air,

                                

the green pastures,

                                          

and  the morning light.

                                        

There is an essence to fall that just delights the senses and I was all wrapped up in it as I soaked up the blessings of a quiet Sunday morning. It was the perfect morning for basking in the morning sun:

                                       

And a little stretching. Equine yoga, anyone?

                                               
As well as perfect scratching weather

                                                 

Oh, I wanted to bottle it up when the horses meandered in from the horse trap and gathered round me.

                                    

These sniffers of coat collars.
                                                   

These lovers of nuzzled noses.

These ticklers of warm whiskers.

                                                 

 The good Lord truly created something magical in the horse. I wish you could have smell-a-vision. I'll admit that the combination of the tank water, the dew-kissed grass, the horses snuggling up against me and jostling for position to get closer, and watching DH and his Dad a horseback made me misty eyed. Sappy? Perhaps, but I wouldn't change a thing. I know I should have been back at the house getting ready for church, but I honestly could not have been closer to God or praised him any more than I did this morning in that pasture. All glory and honor goes to Him and I am incredibly thankful for this gift he has given me.

I'm going to print out a couple of these shots and tape them to my kitchen cabinets to remind me of this morning when I am bemoaning the fact that I am chained to the kitchen for 6 more days. I am also going to wrap my camera deep in a quilt and stuff it in the back of the armoire so I won't be able to hear it's muffled cries to be released from captivity because I am weak and it would be so easy to let it lead me astray and abandon my kitchen duties. Could you blame me?