We stayed in a cabin on Copperas Creek, happily near the ruins of a place where kin of hers lived way back before the Comanches were pacified completely. We saw the chimneys and the place they drew water up a bluff from a spring. Tough people. Wife tells a story that her forebear went off to San Antonio, and the wife and kids were left to get by on catfish from the creek and the meal at the bottom of the barrel. Tough folks. It was pretty cool.
That country is well toasted by the big dry we have going on. Hardly a blade of grass and the ribs sticking out on the deer. Cattle mostly sold off. The landlady said it's the driest she's seen in upward of fifty years. Copperas Creek's gone dry at the headwaters, though there is still water holding behind dams along the creek.
It's pretty spectacular country. From the porch we looked across the creek to steep cliffs. Right in the middle of the top cliff pic, you can see an exotic deer making its way along a trail about twenty feet up from the foot of the cliff.
A lot of wildlife and birds galore. One of the pix is of a painted bunting, a bird that looks like it was designed by Lily Jane with a large watercolor set. No cats, no people ... heaven.
The Girl showed up, bringing Lily Jane, and all had a fine time at the cemetery-cleaning and reunion. I will never have a membership card in the club out there [you pretty much have to have ridden in that yellow schoolbus with them to really fit in], but I do have a guest card, they are cordial, and the opportunities for ethnography are good.
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