Lower Salt Creek
Oak Red Above Creek
No. 1 Flower The Grove
Brenda in The Grove
Today, Brenda and I drove to The Grove to have a small picnic lunch. She had suggested a picnic earlier in the morning. After a few chores, I came back by the house and Brenda met me at the back door with a picnic cloth sack. She got in the passenger seat after I moved the field bag and camera out of the way. We slowly drove to The Grove, about 0.4 miles on the pasture road, admiring the wildflowers along the way. (Tomorrow, I use a disc to bring topsoil over the seeds I spread yesterday.)
We had a light lunch of ham sandwiches, potato chips and Dr. Pepper. We finished the lunch off with small chocolate eggs wrapped in colored foil. As we sat on the tailgate of the pickup, we chatted about the flowers under our feet, the pre-blossom forms that presage the flower. We looked south into the Salt Creek ravine, not able to see the water in the creek, but feeling the effect of the cool water and the canopy of trees above us.
We then walked to the creek and I showed her the red oak tree (verify) that was different from other oaks along the bank. We walked along the creek bank — it’s rather deep, the creek ravine, about fifteen feet to the bed. We noticed a few old deer trails and holes under trees that animals had dug. I took photographs of wild flower specimens she discovered. She suggested that I hollow out a large oak tree that had fallen in order to put in some plants back at the house. We chatted about taking the surplus brick we had stored at the construction area and use it to floor the ground for the outdoor grill. I teased her that I was going to have to get out my notepad to take down all the projects she intends for me to accomplish.
We walked all the way to the east water gap and turned around, slowly walking back to the truck. Brenda said that this summer, Olivia, our grandchild, could put on long pants and hike with us along the creek and about the grove. We arrived back at the truck and drank some cold water, refreshing ourselves.
Brenda wanted to ride on the tailgate on the return trip. I promised I would go slow. I circled by the corrals and Shiney the colt was very interested in the person riding on the tailgate — a new visual for the little guy. After pausing to chat with the horses — fine horses, courageous horses — I drove back to the house, Brenda and I talking even though she was still riding the tailgate and I was driving. The wind was blowing, but not hard. Clouds and moisture from the Gulf of Mexico passed overhead. No rain fell although a forty percent chance had been forecast.
Sunday in The Grove.
Sage to Meadow ~ Jack Matthews 