Signs in the Neighborhood

Driving past this feed store reminded me of the old place that used to be at the four way stop sign in Murphy Texas. No longer in business, their bait sandwiches have gone the way of the buggy whip.



Bait Sandwiches? Stop in at our deli.

Murphy's Bait and Tackle was demolished and replaced with a strip center containing a Lowe's, a Chick-Fil-a and a Chipotle restaurant mixed in with other stores.

I circled back through Lucas after finishing an errand that took me down this crooked and woodsy back road in the first place. Stopping just long enough to capture a photo of their sign, I figured it's only a matter of time before places like this one disappear completely.

Christmas Decorations

Putting away the boxes of Christmas decorations made me want to purge my rampant collection of holiday decor. A couple of trips to the trunk of the car and once again, my boxes fit neatly into the cupboard beneath the stairs. I knew exactly where I was headed with the donations.

Of course, it was somewhere that I would likely bring home more stuff than I dropped off.

The trip held no exception to the truth about giving; it makes more room for treasure. This vintage punch bowl was discovered at The Samaritan Inn in McKinney Texas.

Oh yes, one more item to find room for in the overflowing cupboard. The old pressed glass pattern brought back days of Christmas in the sixties and was simply irresistible. We traditionally served red punch poured into dainty little glass cups with handles way too small for anyone's fingers. The recipe was prepared with ginger ale, Hawaiian punch and pineapple juice cooled with ice cubes of frozen fruit juice. My sister was in charge of ladling at our house, hard at work at here at her duty post.

Perhaps when the right festive occasion comes along and punch is required, I might find a use for this set of elegant glassware. I can imagine filling it with a colorful holiday beverage. Forget the paper cups, I enjoy using real dishes.

Venturing Out - Day Five of the Ice

After a week of hunkering down behind battened hatches, I ventured out to drive on the neighborhood streets yesterday.

 It was staggering to see the volume of damage to the trees along familiar trails and to find that my trees were not the only ones affected by the storm.

The biggest tree in the backyard sustained the most damage, an  Arizona ash planted back in the early 1990s when we first moved out here.

 

The roads were like an ice palace with frozen sculptures at every turn. Even a speed limit sign provided a visual point of interest with its ice sheath slipped down to reveal an icicle fringed skirt.

Watching ducks swim about on the icy surface of the chilly water, the small pond by the RV Park was reminiscent of a favorite story from the movie, "Fried Green Tomatoes".

It was good to get out.

Major Ice Storm Hits Dallas Area with a Vengeance

Temperatures in the Dallas Metroplex took a turn dramatically downward this week. Taken by surprise after Tuesday and Wednesday's temperatures ranged in the high seventies, Thursday night temps would bring in more than just cold weather.

Opening the back door to let the dogs out a few minutes before sunrise Friday am, I found a nasty surprise in the backyard. Our two mature trees, which usually form a balanced pair on either side of the porch, were bent over double with limbs and leaves dragging the ground. In the dim light of morning it was difficult to see the full extent of the damage.

The all-night tinkling of freezing rain Thursday evening left a major change on the neighborhood creating an icy world of crystaline sculptures of the landscape.

Limbs of trees we planted in the early nineties are snapped off as if they were tiny twigs, held in position by a thick coating of ice.

 

The Popcorn Tree has suffered loss of at least 4 major limbs snapped off as if by a giant hand.

 

 

The yard was like a brickyard of spikes piercing upward through the thick coating of frost. As Tony tried to walk, the frozen concoction remained stiff and unyielding. His legs and feet slipped and slid as he tried to make his way to his favorite spot.

 



 

 

 

 

 

Today, the ice remains as seen in the photos as temperatures have remained below freezing. Some of the ice melted during the day yesterday and refroze last night creating a world of black and slippery ice. Even truckers from the north were saying they'd never seen anything like these road conditions up north. We really do things BIG in Texas.



And the Blind Shall Show Them the Way

Small miracles happen every day if only we pay enough attention to see. The other day, I was dashing out of the front door to run errands, when I noticed something very important missing from my car keys: half of the key ring with all Mom's keys was not attached to the ring.

The first thing I did was panic. I viewed a mental picture show of all the places I'd carried the keys recently.

The Post Office? Yes, I'd stood in the parking lot talking with a neighbor in the previous days, keys in hand. I could see my hands gesturing wildly as they sometimes do, while a view from the side camera catches the arc of the keys flinging out of my hand landing in the gravel lot somewhere beyond. As I sensed this was the place to find the missing keys, I drove immediately to the cement building that serves as our postal facility and discovered it was Veteran's Day and the place was closed. Next.

The recycling facility? Oh, please, not that. Don't make me crawl through that huge green dumpster, please. I'll search there only as a last resort.

The driveway? That morning I'd carried the trash out to the street and taken my house keys with me after being locked out by Tony one time, well, more than once. Tony is our Labrador and my constant companion.

Tony standing guard over Cookie

So I walked up and down the driveway a few times, which for most people is like a walk around the block in the neighborhood. After a few trips from the porch to the road I was ready to call it quits so I drove over to Moms and mentioned that I had misplaced my keys, trying not to draw attention to the fact that it was their keys I'd lost -- That would have been a no win situation.

Anyhow, as I'm carrying on with Mom about the latest whatever she says, "Oh, by the way, Louise found the keys." Louise, who's recently passed her 93rd birthday and who's lost most of her vision had found the keys which I'd searched for most of the morning. She had located them on the couch in their living room, nestled underneath the quilt where I hadn't bothered looking.

My sanity was held together on a neat ring in Louise's trembling hand where the keys to the Post Office Box, the front and rear doors, dead bolts and gate key were clipped together all safe and sound. Taking the keys in hand, I danced the dance of joy, gave her an enormous hug and one to Grandma to make it even and another round for each of them.
I waited for some deep voice to announce from the clouds..."And the blind shall show them the way...". Nothing like that happened, but a big white "X" streaked its way across the bright blue sky as I made my way back toward the world of normalcy.

Which made me think of Indiana Jones who said, "X never, ever marks the spot."

Amazing. And so is Louise.

Fire Hazzard

Last Friday when I called Mom to see if she wanted some homemade soup, she said, "No thanks, I'm making creamed beef with gravy. I was delighted that she had the energy to prepare a meal since she's been so tired lately. Whenever I call, I seem to wake her, although she denies that she was sleeping. "I'm just resting," she always tells me, "just lying here with my eyes open."

Saturday when I took them over the soup I'd promised, I noticed the vent hood of her stove had black scorch marks across the front that wouldn't come off when I tried to wipe it down with cleanser. "What happened here?" I asked.


Vent hood scorch marks

"Oh, that happened a couple of days ago," she told me.

I knew better, having been there Thursday to deliver their weekly groceries and some KFC for their dinner. I asked how they liked the chicken and whether she'd remembered to serve the cole slaw which I'd put in the refrigerator as it was too early to eat dinner. Nope. It was still in the fridge.

I returned to the issue of the scorch marks and asked her again what happened. She'd turned away from the frying pan (with it on High) while looking in the fridge. A huge fire had engulfed the ground meat while she wasn't looking. I was speechless for about two minutes while I sat and tried to think of what to say. This is my Mother, and yet I'm the one who's always lecturing. Finally I found the words.

"I'm just glad you are both okay," I told her. "Things could have been much worse," I said trying to keep the fear out of my voice.


The vent hood in the background

"Well, there are two doors to get out of," she informed me somewhat defensively. Thank the Lord that she'd reacted quickly and moved the pan into the nearby sink. Her words sent a cold shiver through me. I was proud of her quick thinking and yet . . .

With Louise in a wheelchair and Mom on a walker, it would take them too long to get out of the house if things had gotten worse; the stuff of nightmares. Just the week before, we'd had a major fire two blocks away which burned through the night. Last night, a special report on emergency preparedness in case of fire aired on the news and I thought about the Ladies across the street as I do often when I can't sleep.

Things That Go Pop In The Night

The sound of sirens in our neighborhood is never a good sound. The first thing that comes to mind is the elderly ladies who live across the street, my Mom and her ninety-three year old sister. Of course, out here, that's about a city block away. I ran immediately to the front window to see which street the ambulance would turn down, wondering how quickly I could get dressed and get over there if need be. What I saw from the front window of the house was a firetruck making its way down the main drag that separates our homes.

When I looked over in the direction of Grandma's house, my heart nearly jumped out of my throat. There were bright yellow flames that reached above the tree line between us. The night sky was lit up like a white cloud at sunset, with orange tongues of fire reaching even higher than the neighboring homes. I couldn't tell exactly how far away it was so I woke J and he drove over there to investigate. In the meantime, three more firetrucks had screamed their way past our house and turned right on the streets that lead in the direction of Mom's house.

It seemed an eternity before J returned in the truck pulling up the driveway slow as Christmas. My first thought was that he had gathered the ladies and brought them to our house and while my mind worried whether he had rescued Sugar, their cat, I saw that he was alone in the truck. Running outside to meet him at the driveway, I flooded him with inane questions that were self evident by that point.

He groggily let me know that the fire was two streets away and that he had stopped to talk to neighbors, who at that time of the morning, were still up and outside watching the volunteer fire department trying to extinguish the roaring inferno.

The morning after

All they knew was that they were playing video games when they heard a loud pop. When they went outside to look, they saw their neighbor's home engulfed in flames. They dialed 911 but the fire had already been reported and help was on the way.

This is all that remains of what was once someone's home. Perhaps the most disturbing part is seeing the dog houses in the back. Still, I remain eternally grateful that it was not at Mom's house and that they slept peacefully through the night. I whispered a prayer of thanks and went back to bed.