Texas Independence Day Celebration preparation had begun months ago and the final touches were being put in place by our Trustees and all of the staff. The trustees had worked hard and long hours setting up all the fire rings, roping off parking areas, setting out signs, chopping fire wood and delivering it to the proper area. Wrapped up against the wind and cold, they painted the education hall and event hall to house a local Mason’s meeting, windows were covered over to retain the mystic inside from escaping and meeting furniture set to specifics as required. All tasks were completed just days before the celebration.

John was to work at the farm and I was to help in our stocked-full-of-Texas gift shop as extra help.

As it were, the cold drove visitors into the center so I primarily sold hot beverages, keeping things flowing by bagging and refilling the shelves.  It suited me, keeping me happily moving all around greeting the celebration visitors. I was completely spent by the end of the day from all the activity but awoke ready to face the crowds the next day, even with the Texas weather being as uncooperative as possible for such an important celebration.

John helped in several areas on the farm, giving visitors the low down on what life was like in the 1850’s, what part pigs played for survival, the living conditions of Anson Jones’ slaves and his favorite (besides eating the farm cooked meals) was working with the Oxen under the guidance of Bruce, an employee.  Bruce stopped for a drink, 1850’s style, from a farm grown hollowed out gourd.

The second day was slow so I was able to visit the farm and get a shot of John walking  Slim, a Pineywoods Oxen, out of the farm pasture to the pasture next to LilyPad.

No rain the first day allowed local musicians to play inside and out.  The Lone Star String Band, a group of professionals, played in the visitors center and down on the farm.

A giant team of Longhorn Oxen stood by the visitor center entrance and allowed celebrators a photo op.  They stood patiently for hours while people milled around them.

Several noted local authors came to sign their books; Sharon with The Burning of Brenham,

Garlyn with The Donkey Boy, Father Forgive Them and The Rachel Plummer Story

and Laurie with Magnificent Sam.

Our local bee keeper, Lorelei, brought displays,

Paula the laundress and Happi the soap maker gave demonstrations,

our neighbor and fellow volunteer Richard was a period interpreter and was showing off his mug made from real horn,

and a whole group of Interpreters shared stories of 1850’s adventures while throwing back a cold one (soda) at the Inn.

The second day had fewer visitors so John and I were able to take a break and walk the area, visiting some of the farm demonstrators.  Dave the blacksmith was an entertaining fellow with impressive forging skills.  Using period style tools, he fashioned dozens of cooking and hardware items, then used a copper rod to demonstrate the making of a tiny masterpiece.

The resulting awesomely beautiful copper leaf was presented to me to hang in LilyPad.

In the Barrington Farmhouse, Betty was demonstrating tatting.

We wandered to the side field where the Texas Army was headquartered, complete with period tents, furnishings and all participants in period dress.

The camp even had its own blacksmith for repairing wagons and making tools.

Along with their two canon’s which were fired off during the celebration, the group was living as they had back in the late 1800’s. Although they were scheduled to stay the weekend, the chilly soggy weather chased them all back to their “real world” homes.

An enjoyable celebration even with the never ending dampness that stayed both days.

The event marked the highlight of the preceding three months volunteering. Best part of the experience was the absolutely amazing staff…friendly and helpful…loved being in their company.

Packed up and ready to move on to our “home base”, we said our good-byes and departed, the drive being a few easy hours on smooth roads all the way to Rayford Crossing RV Resort. Home again, home again jiggety-jig.

Time to enjoy family and friends, revisit doctors, stock up on supplies and plan our next roadway direction. Our objective, to visit as many family and friends along our route as possible before reaching Massachusetts.

This time our “It’s Always Something” wasn’t even our fault but we are still stuck with part of the cost. Unless we find the exact mower that hit us and they admit to the accident, we will end up paying the $500.00 deductible for which we hadn’t planned. I argued that it would be covered for a car hit-and-run, but they came back with “a motorhome isn’t considered a car”. It would be covered if a vehicle hit a “sticks and bricks” house but they stated “because it is mobile, it is not considered a house”. Tried every conceivable scenario but all my arguments were lost causes. Ah, the joys of paying all that money to insurance companies just in case something happens, then having something happen and finding out you are not totally covered.

Soon we leave the comfort of our familiar surroundings for the first leg of our trip. The music in my head starts softly a few days before our departure, picking up Willie’s smooth crooning words, On The Road Again.  When we leave Friday morning, the song will be pumped up so loud, the windows will vibrate as our wheels creep away from our site.  New England, here we come!

The beginning of our third year has brought many insightful realizations to our current way of life. Not surprisingly, I found that 30 days of minimal human contact other than John is my maximum. Spending countless evening hours alone on 300 acres is an overkill of solitude and the fantasy of living among wild things creeping around at night is not as attractive as I had once believed.

As our volunteer stretch draws to an end here at Washington on the Brazos, we begin the arduous task of planning the trip details for our next season of life in our rolling box. Thankfully we are already past the difficult undertaking of applying for, and entering into a contract with, the Federal Government, the Army Corps of Engineers. Our job will be working for Buffumville Dam in Massachusetts and has been finally granted us, paperwork signed, sealed and delivered. We are excited about meeting Ranger Jamie, our new head honcho. If our entertaining conversations with her on the phone are any indication of her personality, we are going to get along wonderfully and a good time will be had by all. Three other couples will be working and living near us for our five month job beginning the 15^th of May and ending the 15^th of September. We will be allowed to spend an extra week before our tour of duty and an extra week after for no cost. Nice perk!

John’s 68^th birthday was celebrated with our daughter driving out to visit us “down on the farm” and a first for John, a trip to Brenham’s awesome creamery, Blue Bell Ice Cream. Decades ago I had taken both kids when on a Girl Scout outing and then again when I was home schooling. John never was able to tag along.

The tour is now six dollars per person, up from “free” a few decades ago but at the end, instead of a small sample, you get an enormous scoop of one of their 13 flavors. If you can’t decide, ask for a taste of several and you’ll get nice rounded sample spoonful. If you have room for a second scoop it’s only one dollar.

We were very impressed with this little creamery, starting out with one small delivery truck and now standing alongside the big boys, Dryers and Breyers and keeping up with them nicely in sales. Many of the employees that began decades ago have generations of family members that continue to work for Blue Bell.  The day was so dreary and overcast that I took a few pictures from the internet to post.  Below is their first delivery truck.

Nikki, our tour guide, was fun and full of interesting facts. She also inserted just enough cheesy dairy jokes to keep us moaning once her words were understood by us all.  Picture of the cow and milkmaid are from the internet.  My pictures had dozens of little kids posing for their parents with not much of the cow or maid showing.

The company is still run by the decedents of those responsible for its rise, beginning in 1907 and continuing on today. Closed on weekends so families can be together, all shifts are home by 8pm. Each of the line positions are rotated every 40 minutes to keep spirits high and the break room is stocked with a freezer full of their awesome blue bell ice cream, as much as wanted for free! No pictures of the employees area are allowed but we received smiles, waves, dances and were shown the contents of what was being poured into vats at each viewing through the tour windows.

Next morning we met up at Cozy Grape Wine Bar and Bistro in Montgomery, Texas for what we hoped was an upscale dining experience before visiting Saint Francis Wolf Sanctuary. This small eatery did not disappoint. Local art décor, comfortable seating and wonderfully eclectic offerings like a combo eggs benedict of green eggs and ham, the green being pesto, alongside a crab cake benedict.

On our way to the Wolf sanctuary, the weather cooled and misted over. We passed a Trail Ride gathering of wagons, horses and cowboys ready to continue their journey through to the Houston Rodeo in spite of the dampness.

Once we arrived at the Wolf Sanctuary, two barking part Shepard dogs dashed to the fence, taking turns assessing our every move as we opened the gate. Our entrance was adjacent to their guarded territory or we would have been shown their sharp canine protective characteristics along with a few wolf fangs.

The whole area was covered with warning signs, most advising visitors that poking fingers through the fence would be considered a meat treat offering by the four legged guards.

Inside we were met by our tour guide, a young man who had a past working with wild animals in zoos and private facilities across the United States. The wolf side quietly observed our movements but as we looked down the row progressing to the pure dog side, the restless pacing and activity turned hyper. Feeding time began with a wagon rolling out a feast of raw meat to fill stainless steel bowls, all secured to metal wire so the wolves would not grab them and run off.

The wolf pack activity reached a frenzied state with yips and aggressive nipping at those on the bottom of the pecking order. Dinner was carefully slid through the narrow opening in the fence keeping fingers clear of the sharp fangs and took mere minutes to devour.  Next came the clean-up of waste, another carefully choreographed plan using two caregivers, one keeping a watchful eye on the moves of each of the caged occupants while the other picked up.

After wolfing down dinner, our guide told the tale of how these wild animals came to the sanctuary, some from various now defunct refuges, some from private homes and others by accident. The “by accident” happened when animal control incorrectly labeled dogs that looked like wolves. In Texas it is illegal to own a wolf unless one has the proper sanctions and licenses. Those said to be part wolf by owners are sent to the sanctuary, their fate sealed, spending the rest of their life in a sanctuary as the cost to decipher their lineage is not affordable for the sanctuary.

We were able to meet two of the full timers, Tala and Tracker, Tala being the ambassador for the sanctuary, Tracker being “in training”. Tala sniffed us on the first go round, then we were allowed to pet her gently. Note her wolf attribute, paws placed one directly in front of the other when walking.

Tracker was much friendlier, stopping to lick several of the visitors and paused for several moments to groom John’s beard and verbalize how much he was enjoying the task.  Sadly the camera refused to focus on John as he was seated next to me and we were told not to rise from our seats during the experience.  A picture of the look on John’s face during the cleaning would have been priceless.  Astonishment is an understatement. 

After the tour, a walk back to the car in the damp air and soggy grass, a quick stop at WalMart for groceries and to watch the giant masses of birds swarm all over the cars,

warming up with the heater turned up full blast and arriving at the farm in time to view our backyard sunset. All was quiet except for Chrissie growling at our back window and the sound of our pack of yipping coyotes roaming around the park.  Howling would begin as soon as the sun set and continue on after darkness took over the park.