The View from Here

Never Sorry

Yesterday Gary and I went to the Hagerman National Wildlife Refuge for the first time since the recent major flooding. This photo shows the current water level, which means that all roads are closed and even the short trail just below the visitors’ center is covered in water.

A friend went to the refuge this past weekend…for the first time. Yesterday, we met a couple who had done the same thing, and driven up from McKinney, Texas to do so. I feared that both would be sorry they had bothered. There was little to see, except for the displays in the visitors’ center and the flowers in the garden. A few feathered residents could be seen here and there, but the usual population was clearly hidden.  I can only hope they enjoyed those enough to realize the potential of the wildlife sanctuary and return when it is back to “normal”.

But perhaps the tourists who visited during this less than optimum time live busy lives in town and were able to find some peace and joy in just being outdoors. Perhaps they encountered a bird or butterfly or flower they wouldn’t see in their area. So perhaps, like us, they weren’t sorry they visited…

Ironically that was Gary’s sentiment as we left the parking lot.

“You know, I’m never sorry we visited. No matter what the conditions, I always see something that was worth the trip.” About sixty seconds later a lovely doe crossed the road in front of us…the first we’ve seen in over a year. We didn’t get a picture of her, but the encounter was like an explanation point on Gary’s statement.

When I looked at the clock on our dashboard, I realized we had spent over an hour exploring a tiny, tiny portion of the refuge on foot. We had enjoyed fresh air and exercise and taken 100 photos of nature.

Never sorry…

 

Babies

These hatched next to our driveway today. SO much fun to watch!

Big Stories and Lies

I was reading an old issue of the newspaper last week, looking for an item about my mother, when I came across this editorial in the school news. I not only admire the thoughts of this young woman, but I find it interesting to remember that this was written by one of my mother’s classmates. I find it comforting to know that there was another thoughtful woman, with writing skills, with whom she might have shared some time and her own thoughts. Mom often cautioned me about the dangers of gossip.

I also find this topic quite timeless. People continue to spread rumors and outright lies through social media, often just by making subtle comments or suppositions that quickly become “fact”, without investigation or verification.

 

 

The Caddo Herald

September 5, 1947

Caddo High Times

 

The Big Story

By Lenora Evans

The “big story”, like the big fish that got away, is something that never happened.

Just where do these big stories originate? They spring in their fancy from the line of some person, who little realizes that by relating some small incident to a friend he can be planting a seed that will grow in size and be almost as hard to kill as is blood poisoning once set up in a body.

What appears to be harmless can kindle a spark resulting in a blaze that will engulf some innocent person’s heart.

From thoughtlessness on the part of one person, another must suffer. Weigh your words before speaking. Exchange the gossip for a word of praise. Do not be the originator of the big story.

Where no wood is, the fire goeth out; so where there is no falsebearer, the strife ceaseth. Proverbs 26

Lily Season

This is lily season in the Maurer garden and I’m amazed each day by the beauty of God’s creations. 

A Small Part...

 

I was walking around the yard yesterday when I began to notice how many tiny little blossoms are scattered among the giant lilies and tall daisies. Some are flowers I planted, but others are wild…planted by the wind and the birds.

I’ve tried to photograph some of them. Most are simply beyond the capabilities of my lens and the skills of my hands. But while I can’t easily focus my camera on a spot the size of a pencil eraser, but I can easily focus my attention on the tiny blooms, and it occurred to me as I began to actively search for them, that many are quite beautiful. They have the same intricate shapes and curves and designs as any other blossom. Their colors range from bold to soft and dreamy to stark white.  They provide food for equally tiny little critters that I can’t identify and heretofore hadn’t noticed either.

When I was a young girl I was fascinated by tiny creatures. I collected insects. I gathered shiny pebbles and put them in a jar. I read about elves. I wrote stories and poems about them. I imagined them living in the clover patch near one of our fruit trees. I envisioned them splashing in the tiny stream of water that flowed through our garden. They must have had their own tiny garden with tiny blossoms.

That thought brought a smile to my face. No doubt another purpose of tiny flowers.

Throughout much of my life I’ve felt “tiny”, not in size certainly, but in purpose. When I was a young woman, I wondered why God didn’t make me smarter, more talented, more confident, more capable. And why wasn’t I ever rich or famous, or both?

As I got older, I began to appreciate my small part in the scheme of things. I grew to love my path in life and looked forward to seeing where it led next. I still do. I’m so thankful that God chose me to have a small but necessary part in this world. I may not reap as much glory as others, but my garden has taught me over and over again that every flower serves a purpose…even the tiny ones.

 

Hard Times

Only a few stories that I’ve read in the old newspapers in the past twenty years have had a lasting impact on my mind and heart. Most were stories of great courage or determination. Some were stories of great evil. Others were stories of tragedy involving women and children. The story that I read earlier this week contains all of those elements and more. I cannot imagine the terror and hopelessness this woman must have experienced. Nor can I imagine the faith and determination it must have required for her to persevere in the face of such disastrous circumstances. In the future, should I encounter “hard times”, I will certainly remember Anna, who survived a great tragedy without easy communication and rapid transportation and a network of family and friends.

I am summarizing Anna Cox’s story because the article about her experience is quite lengthy. She requested that it be told and reported to her family and friends back home in Missouri. She asked that they write to her at Caddo, Choctaw Nation.

Anna told part of it to the reporter, then became overwhelmed, and the story was continued by her seven-year-old daughter.

So here it is:

Anna had been married to William Cox for nine years and they had three children: two girls (7 and 5), and a boy (3). They traveled from Missouri and lived for a time in Texas and the Indian Territory.

One morning in 1884 they were traveling in west Texas (apparently on their way to I.T.) when Anna heard a shot, turned, and saw her husband fall dead into the grass. Anna, sitting in the wagon, was preparing to pull out for their day of traveling. She didn’t see the shooter. She got down and tried in vain to pull William’s lifeless body into the back of the wagon, but could not, so she pulled him under the wagon.

She removed one of the wagon horses from its harnessing, left her children in the wagon, and rode out in search of help. There was no one around. (She found out later there wasn’t a house within forty miles.) She became distraught and disoriented.

Her daughter picks up the story: “Mama got lost and did not come back that night. We slept with papa under the wagon.”

Anna managed to return the next morning and tried one more time to put her husband’s body in the wagon. She just wasn’t strong enough. She spent one more night thinking about the problem and decided she had to bury him. Using only an ax and a board, she dug a shallow grave.

Anna knew of only one town in the area- Colorado City, some sixty miles away. She hitched up the horses and set out, but about noon they tried to cross a stream and the horses became hopelessly mired in the mud. They left the wagon and team behind and began to walk.

Thankfully Anna and her children came upon some “movers” who took them to Colorado City. She doesn’t say how she got to Oklahoma or if she ever retrieved any of her possessions or attempted to find her husband’s grave. The article only says “Mrs. Cox arrived at Caddo a few days ago and I will give her story as near as I can.”

I’ve tried to do the same.

Blessed...

May is going out with a roar and leaving much of our state in recovery mode. Trees are down. Roads are flooded and closed. Homes are piles of rubble.

Here on our tiny plot of land, everything is wet but still wonderful, and I am so thankful. I go out each day to feed the birds and do a little gardening and I feel blessed to do so.

I pray that if you are struggling with negative effects from the storms you find the strength to persevere. I pray that you have someone to help you recover. I pray that the future holds new blessings for you and your family.

Bird Migration

As many of you know, my “other hat” is that of local historian. I’m currently researching the national newspapers for news of our town from the “missing years” that are not covered by our local newspaper archives. That means that for the past week I’ve been reading newspapers from 1880-1889. One of the harsh truths I’ve discovered is that the papers in far away locations were fascinated by the “wild west” aspects of the Indian Territory- the crime stories and tales of Indian wars. So, I was surprised to find a couple of items in Texas and Arkansas papers about the first “Congress of American Ornithologists” in 1883, and their pleas to the public for help in recording bird migration. Bird migration! My earlier reading for that morning had included a shoot-out at the depot, the capture of a fugitive from another state, and the murder of a young child. How refreshing to read that Wells W. Cooke, superintendent for the Mississippi Valley region was searching the Territory for birds, not outlaws!

Mr. Cooke spent quite some time in this area, teaching school and studying the birds. His records are both detailed and entertaining, giving us valuable information about the birds, and also the community of Caddo:

7. Branta canadensis canadensis. CANADA Goose.-- The first goose was seen in fall migration October 10, and for the rest of the fall the species was common flying over toward the south. None alighted near Caddo, but some must have wintered not far off for they were seen every few days all winter. The winter of 1881-2, geese were extraordinarily abundant near Caddo and hundreds were shot for their feathers, the bodies being thrown away. The next winter they were rare and the same during the winter of 1883-4. But this latter winter they were numerous a hundred miles west of Caddo. Canada Geese were common March 3, 1884, migrating north against a strong wind, and flocks passed daily March 9-16. A hard thunderstorm broke at 11 P.M. April 1, and a flock of geese overtaken by the storm, alighted in a dooryard at the edge of town. Hunters say that this is later than usual for them to be present.

I’ve had a copy of Mr. Cooke’s “Winter Birds of Oklahoma” for many years and have read it several times. However, it wasn’t until I read the articles in the paper this week that I envisioned him wandering through the woods and prairies doing something he had done since he was a child. At a time when Caddo had been a town for barely ten years and was still trying to carve a civilized community out of the infamous “wild west”, people like Mr. Cooke were spending their time exploring and enjoying nature and recording information that has now endured for well over 100 years!  

I’ll think about Mr. Cooke when I read the Tuesday bird count made at the nearby Hagerman Wildlife Refuge tomorrow. I wonder what he would think about being able to drive around in a van to take his notes. He would probably prefer to walk…

 

Pain relief...

Gary and I have been discussing pain lately. It seems that every community in our county has seen the opening of at least one dispensary for cannabis products. Friends and family members are already touting the benefits of cannabis oil. There are numerous FB comments about pain relief. I have to confess that I haven’t formed any strong opinions about it, simply because for some people their alternative solutions seem to be drugs and/or alcohol. We already know the terrible results of using either to control pain. My biggest concerns with cannabis products are the same ones I have for any “supplement” or alternative medication- misinformation, quality control, and dosage.  People who “self-medicate” aren’t always the best doctors.

I’m not sure I will devote much time or effort to finding out more about this issue, at least for a while. However, I can see that in the future I might want to weigh all of my options. I’m currently in pain only when I’m awake and I don’t mean that as a joke. I’m thankful that I still sleep well and I don’t awaken in the middle of the night in pain, as my husband sometimes does. My pain level is generally manageable, always there and annoying, but not preventing me from doing much. I’ve only cancelled or postponed three activities in the last six weeks.

Living with constant pain makes me aware that there are people who suffer far more than I do. I can’t blame them for wanting to try almost anything in order to feel better. I only pray that they make wise decisions and continue to consult with a reliable medical professional for guidance.

After the storm...

Thrilled to see this! Day lilies are so easy to grow and come back year after year. I've had this one for several years and it always makes me smile.  Hope it brightens your day!