Lifescapes

Well, well!

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you've been hearing (maybe more than you want) about our water issues here in Central Texas.

You know that we've been updating our water systems for several years. We installed this 1500-gallon emergency tank last spring (the photo was taken in April, when the grass was still green):

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If it ever starts to rain again, we'll hook the tank up to the gutters. In the meantime, we've filled it from our well. It's mostly meant for emergency use: Bill has rigged a pump that will enable us to use it for firefighting, if that's ever necessary. But we have several producing pecan trees within easy hose distance of this tank, and we can use it for irrigating them. Previously, Bill irrigated the pecans from the creek, but that's been dry for nearly a year.

We've known for a couple of years that our current wells (there are three of them at Meadow Knoll, all drilled in the early-mid 1980s) are in trouble. The Trinity Aquifer that serves our area is depleting, which means that the older wells are too shallow to reach the new lower levels. Well drillers in our county have a long queue of replacement wells to drill--and they're all going to be between 50-100 feet deeper. We've been on the list for months, and finally TODAY! it's our turn. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The team got to work early this morning, expecting to drill to depth (not sure yet just what that will be) by the end of the day, then case the well tomorrow.

The county hydrologist is on the site, too. He's logging the well: that is, using an electronic sensor dropped down through the pipe string to make a record of the strata through which it's been drilled.These well logs (which weren't systematically kept for the earlier wells) add to the understanding of the geology and water resources of the area.

The images are read on a computer in the trailer the hydrologist towed onto the site. Please bear in mind that all this is happening in Texas while I'm sitting at my computer in New Mexico, posting the photos that Bill is emailing me. (I'm old enough to remember pasting a 3-cent stamp on my high school graduation announcement. I may never stop being thrilled by this instant communication.)

And here is the first water strike. Bill titled this photo "Looks Like We're Getting Somewhere." Of course, we're not there yet--that is, "there," at the right point in the aquifer, where we can count on good-tasting water, produced at a sustainable rate of over 10 gallons a minute. Well-drilling is still an art as well as a science, although probably less of an art than it used to be in the days of the dowsers.

Our current wells produce very slowly, just a few gallons a mnute. We're hoping this new, deeper well will give us more water for the vegetable garden and our trees. But that doesn't mean we'll waste it: we do conserve and recycle as much as possible. My main use: the vegetable garden. The only decorative plants I have left are herbs and natives that tolerate heat and drought--although even they struggled last summer, with months of 100+ temperatures.

Our situation is only one small example of the problems in this region. The drought may be only beginning, and there are no quick fixes or silver bullets. Rural folks who manage their own water supplies and live surrounded by the drought's visible impacts (dying trees, ranchers and farmers going out of business, recreational supplies drying up) are far more conscious of the issue. Urban residents will only catch on when they discover that their grassy lawns and swimming pools are no longer sustainable. Water availability will limit how much fracking can be done in some areas, such as the Eagle Ford Shale, where residents, farmers, and ranchers compete with the oil companies for what little water there is. And policy planners will have to stop playing political games and start making long-term plans for this endangered resource.

Meanwhile, we're happy that our well finally got to the top of the list, and that the drillers are finding water at the bottom. Believe me, we will treasure every drop of water it produces.

UPDATE: Sat Jan 7. Looks like we may get 8 gal/min tops from this well--a little hard to say yet, because the pump hasn't been installed. It's not going to be a gusher, but it will certainly be better than the current well, and good enough for the irrigation we need to do.

If you'd like to read more about the importance of our water resources, here are two very good books: When the Rivers Run Dry: Water: The Defining Crisis of the Twenty-First Century, by Fred Pearce (2007); and Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water, by Mark Reisner (1993).

Reading note. If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water. Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey, 1957

 

 

Widow's Tears 2

The plant world is full of complicated surprises. A few days ago, I wrote about Widow's tears (Commelina sp.), also called dayflower. Some of you may know that the spiderwort (Tradescantia sp.) also goes by the names Widow's tears and dayflower. Both of these plants belong in the same family, the Commelinaceae. But they're in different tribes. Yes, tribes. (I told you it was complicated.)

The spiderwort is a New World native. The blossoms range in color from pale pink and lavender to purple, and usually have three symmetrical petals. Jim Long has an interesting post and some photos of the spiderworts he grows in his garden. Spiderworts have been used by Native Americans for both food and medicine. The leaves can be eaten raw in salads or cooked like other greens. The stalks can be prepared like asparagus.

Recently, according to an informative post at EattheWeeds researchers have discovered that the cells of the spiderwort's stamen hairs are “bioassays for ambient radiation levels.” In other words, the tiny blue hairs turn pink when they're exposed to gamma radiation. If you're worried about radiation levels in your garden, consult the nearest spiderwort.

The spiderwort's genus, Tradescantia, is named for a pair of sixteenth/seventeenth-century English naturalists John Tradescant the Elder and John the Younger (we would call them "senior" and "junior"), who traveled far and wide collecting plants and seeds and taking them back to England. John Senior became Keeper of His Majesty's Gardens, Vines, and Silkworms for Charles I. John Junior went to Virgina and brought back everything he could lay his hands on: American trees like Magnolias, Bald Cypress and the Tulip tree, and garden plants, such as phlox and asters and, yes, spiderwort.

The other name, Widow's tears? When the flower wilts at the end of the day (dayflower), it dissolves into a fluid jelly, like tears.

Oh, and Philippa Gregory has written a novel about John Senior, called Earthly Joys and about John Junior, Virgin Earth. Both are on my TBR stack, TBR when I finish writing Widow's Tears.

 

 

Widow's Tears

This is the plant whose folkname I've borrowed for the 2013 mystery in the China Bayles series. You probably recognize it, for it grows across most of the United States, east of the Rockies. The name of the genus is Commelina, and many of the 170+ species are used as food, medicine, dyes, animal fodder, and in the production of paper.

A dye plant? The blue pigment on the kimono in this charming print by an 18th century Japanese woodblock artist is believed to be made from the petals of the Commelina communis. 

You may know this plant by the common name, dayflower: the bloom appears in the morning and is gone by the day's end. It also goes by the interesting--and rather ironic--name widow's tears. If you squeeze the spaethe (the bract that surrounds the flower stalk), a drop or two of tear-like muscilaginous sap will ooze out. And since the blossom fades quickly, some people are reminded of the fast-disappearing tears of a widow who doesn't . . . well, grieve all that much.The Commelinas can be invasive if they find a spot they like--rich soil, a little dampish. But they thrive even in poor soil, and their blue blossoms are a welcome spot of color in the woodland garden along our creek in the Texas Hill Country. You'll find a good discussion of the pros and cons of this plant at Dave's Garden. 

To complicate matters, there's another Widow's tears, in the Tradescantia family. More later about that one....

Is Widow's tears (Commelina) growing in your garden? Love it? Hate it?

Snow Scene: New Mexico

I'm taking a winter break at Coyote Ridge, our place in New Mexico, south of Taos on the eastern slopes of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. I've brought Molly Maguire (our blue heeler) with me; Bill has stayed back in Texas with the rest of our menagerie. We've been getting some good early snows here in NM, and there's been some rain back in TX, not a drought-buster, but enough to boost the possibilities for at least some spring grazing for the cows. The photo was taken from our deck earlier this week: a heavy wet snow that created some power outages but will give us some much-needed soil moisture. New Mexico is drought-stricken, too.

Coyote Ridge is a log house built against a slope, with a deck overlooking a narrow valley and a wooded ridge on the other side, with the snow-covered Sangres against the northern sky. The loft is mine for writing and crafts; Bill has a big wood-working shop behind the garage. He comes out in the summers; me, I'm a winter-time gal. I never got enough snow when I was a kid. I love to spend December and early January here, to enjoy the snow. I don't have to go out to work, of course--if I did, it would be another matter entirely! I'll be here through the first week of January.

Writing projects. I've been taking a break from regular blogging partly because writing about our prolonged Texas drought is dispiriting but also because I've been putting my writing energies into . . . well, more writing. My fall project--a narrative nonfiction about Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane--is on hold for the moment, while the book (partially written) finds an agent. Looks like that may have happened: when I can make an announcement, you'll be the first to know, I promise.

The current project is Widow's Tears, China's 21st mystery. As it turns out, though, this is Ruby's book, and it's a ghost story, with a back story furnished by the Great Galveston Hurricane of September 1900. Curious about the title? It's a plant in the Commelina family. Some species are used medicinally and as a dye plant. The writing is going well: about 20,000 words so far. And the research has been really interesting. If I get the time, I'll do a separate post about that. The lovely thing about being here at Coyote Ridge: I have the luxury of doing nothing but writing, reading, walking with Molly, and watching the snow fall on the mountain. Can't think of a better way to spend the winter.

One more bit of book stuff: Peggy has posted the page for Cat's Claw, where you can read the first chapter. The book will be out March 6. For those who are tuning in late: this is a Sheila Dawson book, more of a police procedural than a cozy. There'll be two books in 2012: Cat's Claw (March); and The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose (July).

Reading note: Practice is essential. If you’re going to learn to write, it has to be your practice. I’ve been fascinated with the job of learning to write, which is unending. And I enjoy writing. Dealing with the problems it presents gives me pleasure. Sometimes there’s frustration, but if I get frustrated or hit an impasse, I just stop and go back to it later. I don’t like to hear writers talk about how they suffer for their craft. If it’s that bad, they ought to quit.--Wendell Berry

Happy Dancin' in Darling!

The Darling Dahlias are celebrating! There will be three more books in their series, after the forthcoming The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose (September, 2012). Working titles and dates: The DDs and the Spirit Bean (2013); The DDs and the Texas Star (2014); and The DDs and the Silver Dollar Bush (2015). Thanks to readers, friends, and fans for your support of this new series. The Dahlias and I couldn't do it without you!

Research Notes from the Road #2

When I was visiting the Wilder/Lane Rock House at Rocky Ridge Farm on Wednesday, Bill found this small structure in a ravine right next to the parking area. It's Almanzo Wilder's "spring house," built to keep milk, cream, butter, eggs, and other perishables cool. Bill is 6'1", so you can get a sense of the height and width of the little building. We couldn't go inside, because the door is locked, but I can guess what it looks like. My grandparents had a similar spring house on their small farm in Sullivan County, MO, about 120 miles north of Rocky Ridge, and I remember it very well from my visits there in the 1940s. It was always cool and damp, a special treat in July and August. In this one, the spring water likely flowed in through an opening in the back wall and out through a drain in the floor, through a pipe, and down the ravine. My grandparents' spring house had shelves for the food--maybe this one does, too.

When Rose Lane (Laura and Almanzo's daughter) built the Rock House as a retirement home for her parents in 1928, she had electricity installed so Laura would have a refrigerator and an electric stove--modern conveniences that few farm dwellings had at the time. But the refrigerator might not have been large enough to store all the produce they wanted to keep. What's more, Almanzo was used to using spring water to keep his milk and cream cool and he may not have trusted the electricity supply--prudent, I would say, given the possibility of wires going down. So he had this springhouse built in the ravine below the house. One of the docents mentioned it during her talk and I was delighted when Bill spotted it. Oh, and notice the sturdy door. Almanzo was making sure that critters weren't going to break in and have a feast on his food.

Home again to drought-stricken Texas. The blueblonnets were encouraged to germinate by the 3" rain we got two weeks ago, and they're putting out their true leaves now. I'm actually sorry to see them, because we're not likely to get enough rain in this coming La Nina winter to support their growth. The garden doesn't look terrible, though: I brought in some squash, cucumbers, and what might be the last   of the okra.

In our absence, a team of wild pigs came along and rooted up the yard in front of our house and made a mess of the back yard, as well. I'm just sorry I didn't have the critter cam set up, to catch them in the act. That area isn't particularly damp, but maybe they've targeted the yard because the grass (the dead grass) is more shallowly rooted and they may be finding more yummy white grubs in the soil. Bill and I have never thought of our yard as a "lawn" (lawns are what people sow, mow, fertilize, and water), and we don't mind when the deer, raccoons, skunks, possums, coyotes, turkeys, and other birds use it for a food source, a route to the creek, or a parade ground to impress their friends and lovers. So I'm not sure that I mind terribly when the pigs dig up big patches of turf. But it's open season on wild pigs in Texas, and Bill is muttering about getting out his rifle. I've never eaten a wild pig, but there's a first time for everything. I'll keep you posted.

Reading Note. A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule.--Michael Pollan

Research Notes from the Road

Those of you who are both Laura Ingalls Wilder AND Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds fans may like this photo, even if the colors aren't outstanding. It's a garden at Rocky Ridge (not LIW's original garden area, I'm sure) that is planted and maintained by the foks at Baker Creek, to demonstrate the kind of heritage (old-fashioned, open-pollinated) plants that Laura might have grown. In the garden on this October day: summer-blooming annuals (including several varieties of Love lies bleeding amaranth, asters, and sunflowers), tomatoes, and okra.

I went through both houses again, seeing some things I missed on yesterday's visit and picking up some new material and a couple of books I didn't have. I spent some time at the library in Mansfield (which is named for LIW), appreciating once again the help of a friendly and accommodating librarian (thanks, Brandy Elliott!). I had hoped to be able to browse through the 1928 and 1929 files of the Mansfield Mirror, but Larry Dennis (long-time publisher) feared that the papers were too fragile. (I worked with those newspapers back in the early 1990s, but that was 20 years ago, and they were fragile then. I understood his concern.) I'll need to check with the library where they are held on microfilm.

We had a great lunch at Estrada's, on the square in Mansfield, owned by Karen and Dwight, who serve very good Mexican food. After lunch, we drove over to Seymour, where we found a dulcimer maker who also turned out to be a fan/friend of China's and Ruby's. That's Janis Hagen on the left (I'm incognito on the right). Janis and her husband Chas and Chas's brother Mark make strikingly beautiful dulcimers and other wooden objects at the Purple Turtle in Seymour. (They're sold through Cedar Creek Dulcimers in Branson.) Really exciting to meet a new/old friend in such a small town!

It's been fun to get away from Texas' heat/drought for a few days--and good to spend some "away time" with Bill. Tomorrow, we're heading south and west, to check out a couple of wood-working places that Bill is interested in visiting. 

Rocky Ridge Farm

I'm here (with Bill) on a brief research trip this week. "Here" is the farmhouse at Rocky Ridge, the Wilders' farm just outside Mansfield MO. Laura and Almanzo Wilder, with their 7-year-old daughter Rose, came here in 1894. They moved into a one-room log house and gradually, over a period of nearly 20 years, built this substantial ten-room farmhouse.

Laura and Almanzo were living here in 1928 when Rose returned from abroad. A successful, much-published writer, she built them a smaller, more modern (and manageable) retirement home a short distance away, the Rock House. The Wilders lived in the Rock House from 1928 to 1936, while Rose lived in the farmhouse. It was during this period that the Little House books were written. It's a gorgeous setting: trees, green fields, rocky ravines, natural springs. I enjoyed the tours of both houses and the several hours I spent in the museum--especially enjoyed the time I spent listening to two very knowledgable docents. I learned some things I didn't know, saw a few things I didn't expect to see, and was delighted to recognize the wonderful little painted dropleaf table/chairs in the Rock House kitchen. Laura wrote about them in an article that appeared in the Country Gentleman.

Tomorrow (Wednesday), another visit to the houses, to the local newspaper, and to the library. We'll be heading home on Thursday, with a few stops that Bill wants to make, related to his woodworking.

Speaking of which, he has posted several new pieces on his website, including two beautiful aspen doughbowls. Do check it out.

 

A Little Bit of Green, the Drought, and the Stealth Project

First off, thanks to all who have written to ask if I'm okay! There's been a long silence on this blog, mainly because of my despair over our drought situation but also because I've been working on my stealth project, and my writing time and research energies have mostly been spent on that project. Here's an update on what's been going on at Meadow Knoll.

A Little Bit of Green. The photo shows a typical harvest for a 3-4 day period in the garden, the only green spot in an otherwise drought-burned landscape. Now that October is here and the weather is cooler (90 here most days this week, which may seem hot to you, but actually feels cool to us), I'm getting zukes, cukes, squash, and mini-melons--oh, and okra, of course! The melons, like most produce this season, are dwarfed by the heat. The sweet potatoes are stressed, only about half of my fall Irish potato planting actually came up, and my two tomato plants are blooming but not fruiting. Recently planted: lettuces (several kinds), spinach, chard, kale, carrots.

Drought Update. Blessedly, it rained on us last weekend--3+ inches! But since we're two feet (of rainfall) behind for the past twelve months, three inches didn't dent the deficit. You can see on the current drought monitor map (click to enlarge) that much of the area is in "exceptional drought." That's the very worst category the weather service has come up with--yet. Maybe super-exceptional? Stay tuned.

The lakes (Travis and Buchanan--the water supply for Austin and Hill Country towns) came up about 2 feet after last week's rain but began falling again immediately. Travis (Austin's water supply) is 39% of full. If you're a Barton Springs fan (who isn't?) the status of the aquifer that feeds the pool is "critical." Nearby Georgetown has been pumping water from Stillhouse Hollow Lake in Bell County to Lake Georgetown in Williamson County, but the pipeline failed and the city is on an emergency status.

And of course, there's La Nina, currently forecast to be moderately strong through late winter 2012, which means a drier/warmer winter than normal. Which seems to be the new normal for us. What else can I say?

Stealth Project Update. I've mainly been working on my stealth project, which is now in the hands of an agent. If she decides to represent it, she'll "shop" it to publishers who might be interested. I've been keeping it secret, but I carelessly mentioned it in a talk I gave in Seguin, in the hearing of a newspaper reporter, and next thing I knew it was out there on the web and people were noticing. (That'll teach me!)

The book has the working title of Laura's Rose: A Novel. It's the true story of the crafting of the Little House books, which were written in collaboration by Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane. Yes, the collaboration is a true fact and has been gradually seeping into the awareness of Laura's millions of fans over the past few years. I'm sure it comes as a shock to many, though, in the same way that it's a shock to learn that there never was a real Carolyn Keene. (I can say that, my dears, because I am--rather, I have been--one of a number of authors who worked under the pseudonym of Carolyn Keene. You knew that, didn't you?) But unlike Ms. Keene, there was a real Laura and a real Rose, and together they wrote the eight books you've loved since you were a child.

I'm writing Laura's Rose as a "nonfiction novel," or "creative nonfiction." That is, I'm staying as close as I can to the facts of the matter, drawn from Rose's journals, Laura's letters, and the good work of several biographers and researchers like the astonishing Nancy Cleaveland, who owns the website Pioneer Girl--all things Laura. But I'm telling it as story, creating scenes, dialogue, setting, flashbacks and so on--using the whole novelist's bag of tricks.

Meanwhile (while I'm waiting to hear from the agent), Bill and I are taking a few days to drive up to Mansfield MO to visit Rocky Ridge, where the Little House books were written. I've been there several times at different seasons of the year, doing research. This will be the first autumn visit, and I'm looking forward to seeing some fall foliage--something other than half-charred, drought-induced brown. And no, we are not taking the dogs or the cat. They've already been booked at a nearby doggie Hilton. This is a people trip. Back next Friday, if all goes as planned.

Reading note. The secret of patience is doing something else in the meanwhile.--Anonymous

 

Bill's Woodwright Shop, Books, and Other Matters

 
Bill has opened his woodwright shop for another fall season (through Thanksgiving). In the photo: a 15" spalted pecan platter that he made for me (you can't have this one!) and a pecan slab that he plans to work with. He thinks the slab is large enough to produce two 15" platters, plus perhaps a 12" bowl. Once he roughs out the pieces with a chain saw, he'll round them with a bandsaw, then turn them on his lathe. The pecan slab was harvested by a friend here in the Hill Country. I love knowing where the wood that created my platter came from, and thinking of it as a still-living thing that grows more beautiful all the time--thinking, too, of my husband's hands, shaping it. Very special. 

Book stuff. The Tale of Castle Cottage came out on Tuesday last week and sold out the first printing. Publishers are cutting their print-run estimates close these days, both for financial reasons (they don't want leftover books in the warehouse at the point when the mass market paperback comes out). And they're trying to guesstimate how many eBooks people (and libraries!) are going to buy--instead of print books. They low-balled this one and now they have to go back to print, which is a lot easier than it used to be, when printing was done with plates, instead of digital files. I'm told we'll have more books by September 19. Also very nice: the book is Numero Uno on the Baker and Tayler mystery best-seller list. I wonder if Beatrix would be pleased, or whether she would just shake her head in amusement at the whole thing. Miss Potter was never, ever self-impressed.

My stealth writing project. My Berkley editor has turned the novel down because it's not a mystery. I expected this, so I'm not terribly disappointed--just thought I ought (as a matter of courtesy, not as a contractual issue) to give her right of first refusal. Now that's done, I'll need to find an agent to shop it around. I have two on my current list: it's gone to the first one. In the meantime, I'm pushing forward, since the characters want their story told. And since I've had this project in mind for two decades, it's time I got on it.

Summer is still here: we've just passed our 83rd day of 100+ heat. Yesterday, in the shade on our back deck, it was 104. The leaves on our diciduous trees are turning and dropping, as if we'd had a frost, and our annual fall wildflowers--erygium, sunflowers, goldenrod--are simply gone. Even the broomweed that usually blooms in overgrazed pastures is gone. I walked through the north meadow this morning, marveling at the dryness of the soil. Much of the grass is dead (not dormant, but dead), so when we do get rain, the runoff and erosion is going to be substantial. If we don't get rain, the soil will blow away in the first good wind.

But the fall garden is gifting us with cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, and southern peas, and soon, with tomatoes and sweet potatoes. The Irish potatoes are coming up, pretty and green, and so is the lettuce, but a rude deer ate the tops off my ginger plants. I moved the plants inside the fence where the deer can't get to them. Gardening is always a matter of trial and error--and learning what not to do!

Reading Note: You can’t be optimistic about the state of the world — what you can be is open-minded. You’re going to look for solutions, and you’re going to make your own life mean something. You can no longer think that accumulating money or the biggest house is the answer.--Joan Dye Gussow