Pat Bertram's Blog, page 159

Living Artistry

Who would have thought there was so much to do in and around Weatherford, Texas? Butterfly gardens. Exotic animal sanctuaries. House tours. And gardens.

The last field trip my friend took me on was to the Chandor Gardens, a series of formal gardens created by Douglas Chandor, a renowned English portrait painter. “Living artwork” turned out to be his true calling. From 1936 until his death in 1953, he worked on the gardens, each a secluded gem of statues, waterfalls, fountains, trees, shrubs, rocks, and flowers, with surprises around every corner. (My favorite of the following photos is the tree with a tiny door at the base.)

After his wife’s death in 1970, the gardens grew wild for twenty years, but finally someone bought the place and brought the gardens back to life.

The gardens were a beautiful end to my stay in Texas. In a few hours I will be in Louisiana, hoping the rains don’t wash me away.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: Chandor Gardens, Douglas Chandor, formal gardens Weatherford Texas

Where the Deer and the Antelope (and Giraffes!) Roam

I once visited an exotic animal santuary that seemed less of a sanctuary and more of a prison. All the big cats were in cages, and when I expressed my disappointment that they weren’t running free, the people looked at me as if I were a child and said, “but that wouldn’t be safe, would it?”

So it was with trepidation that I accepted an invitation to visit Fossil Rim, an exotic animal sanctuary here in Texas, but my hostess assured me the animals ran free, that we would be encaged in her vehicle. It sounded fair to me, and so it turned out to be. The animals (some nearing extinction in the outside world) are allowed to run free in huge pastures where they can live a near-normal life. The smallest enclosures were for the cheetahs, who were part of a breeding program to bring the species back from the brink of extinction.

More than thirty species, over 1,000 animals, live on the property. Most will live out their lives in the sanctuary (or so I presume), because they are accustomed to being fed by the workers and by the visitors. (Each vehicle is provided with a small bag of food pellets to feed the animals.) Since it was a hugely visited day (smack dab in the middle of spring break for children), many of the animals were sated to boredom, but others came up to the car looking for a handout.

We saw several species of deer and antelope, giraffes, rhinos, cheetahs, wildebeast and all sorts of more common creatures such as bison and ostriches.

All these photos were taken by me or my friend. Such an unexpected experience!

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: animal sanctuary, cheetah breeding program, Fossil Rim, giraffes, wild animal photos

Butterflies in the Garden

There are no butterflies in my garden because I don’t have a garden, don’t even have a place to put a garden, and even if I did have a garden, I doubt I would see many butterflies because they are disappearing from our every day lives.

Luckily, some folks are trying to repopulate (repupanate?) the butterfly world. The Fort Worth Botanical Gardens presented a program called “Butterflies in the Garden; The Mayan Experience,” an exhibit of exotic butterflies in their conservatory. Live butterflies.(I despise collections of pinned butterflies. Such an ignoble end to any creature.)

We picked the wrong day to go — student day during spring break.— Yikes. Talk about packed! But still, it was a fantastic experience seeing so many butterflies living — relatively — free.

The prize of the exhibit was the Blue Morpho butterfly, seen on my hat with wings closed and on a leaf with wings open.

I hadn’t planned to play tourist this trip (though by definition, I am a tourist), but my gracious hostess is not only wining and dining me, but making sure my days are filled with delights. And such a delight was the day at the botanical gardens, playing with butterflies in the conservatory.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: blue morpho butterfly, butterfly exhibit, Fort Worth Botanical Gardens, playing tourist, the Mayan Experience

The Historic Homes of Weatherford, Texas

When the rain let up enough for us to have a small adventure, my Texas friend and I decided to find out why there were so many historic and architecturally significant houses in Weatherford, Texas, so we visited the chamber of commerce, which is housed in a historic building of its own — the erstwhile train station.

The woman we talked to was pleasant enough though a bit condescending. “All towns have such houses,” she informed me when I asked why Weatherford had so many historic houses. “We just didn’t tear ours down.”

I have lived in several old towns and visited others. Yes, some small places such as Colorado mining towns had a plethora of historic homes, but other towns seemed to have skipped that phase. Perhaps the folk in those towns were still homesteading during the late nineteenth century or the early part of the twentieth when so many of those large houses were built. Or perhaps the town or county was simply too poor to make merchants and local bankers rich.

So no, not all towns had such houses. I didn’t want to argue with the woman, and anyway, “not tearing the houses down” didn’t explain why so many had been built in the first place. In cattle and horse country, rich ranchers build their homes on their property, not in town.

Finally, the woman gave us a pamphlet for an historic driving tour that described some of the houses and their early residents. And the mystery was solved. Apparently Parker county was so wealthy (cattle, horses, agriculture, oil, manufacturing) that bankers, merchants, lawyers, politicians, even an artist or two grew prosperous. And they built lovely houses for themselves, often tearing down the truly historic homes of homesteaders in the process.

And so it goes.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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The cream-colored Italianate house with the red door and gray roof is where Mary Martin and later her son Larry Hagman grew up. The other houses belonged to grocers, druggists, bankers, and lawyers.

Tagged: historical houses in Weatherford Texas, home tour, Larry Hagman childhood home, Mary Martin

Weathering the Weather in Weatherford

Before I left Austin, I had lunch with a fellow author who agreed to be photographed next to my car. (I am sure you are getting tired of seeing the poor old vehicle, but it’s become a symbol of this trip.) Despite his glowing accounts of all the beautiful places to see in Texas, I ignored his advice and took a side road through the town of Bertram instead . . . just because. Then I continued to Stephenville, where I got a motel room that looked like a leftover from the nineteen fifties. (I seem to have more of an affinity for the old single story motels than I do the modern ones.) I’d planned to check out the dinosaur footprints in Dinosaur Valley State Park, but rain and heavy fog kept me on the main road.

I arrived at Weatherford, Texas in the early afternoon. I met my friend, a delightful woman and a gracious (and generous) hostess. Her place is in the city, but seems more like a country retreat. Deer frequent her wooded areas, and cardinals stop to snack at her feeders. (I’d never seen a cardinal before. Such a lovely bird!) We talked for a while to get acquainted (we’d met online because of my grief book and blogs), and then took a drive around town.

For a town this size, there seems to be an inordinate number of historic homes, though my research has yet to tell me why so many wealthy folk congregated here. Similar houses in Denver had often been built by newly rich miners and robber barons, but why in Weatherford? Another oddity is that there is an echo in the back of my head, as if I once knew something about the town, but I can’t think of any book I could have read that took place here.

I will be here a few more days, visiting my friend and waiting out the rainstorms, so maybe I will solve this little mystery. If not, the town will probably slip into the recesses of memory where all the other things I have seen but not recorded reside. (Much of a journey like this is ephemeral. Scenes pass out of sight quickly, even when one drives at a relatively sedate 55 mph, so they don’t have a chance to filter down to long-term memory.)

I hope you are managing to weather your weather as comfortably as I am weathering the weather in Weatherford.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: cross country trip, historic homes, nineteen fifties motel, traveling through Texas, Weatherford

Painted Fields of Texas

I am in Austin, Texas, visiting a dear friend I hadn’t yet met. We’ve been online friends for almost six years, but this is the first time we met in person. As with all my online-now-offline friends, there wasn’t even a blip of hesitation when we met — we just seamlessly continued our friendship, though with an added filip of joy.

I will be meeting someone else I know for lunch, a fellow author from Indigo Sea Press, Norm Brown, whose book Carpet Ride was inspired by a road trip he once took. I sure hope I don’t find any dead bodies during this great adventure of mine!

Then I will head north to meet another online-soon-to-be-offline friend. I’m looking forward to getting back on the road, though I will be taking it easy. Rain storms are expected, but I am not planning on driving in the rain. (Though things have a way of working out differently than I had planned.) It seems as if Texas has been working hard to paint its fields for me, as if to make up for the drabness of my first Texas days, and I will be interested to see what it rolls out before me today.

I did get to see a bit of Austin, but I find that cities, especially young, hip cities, do not speak to me. I thought I wanted to visit San Antonio’s Riverwalk, but now that I am so close, it holds no appeal. I’m more interested in wild landscapes and intamed waterways. Most waterways, anyway. I do have to admit to a bit of trepidation about woman-eating mosquitoes as I near the swampy portion of my trip, but I am holding fast to my belief in the magic of this journey, which gives me some comfort. That belief sure kept me calm during a hugely windy night on Padre Island, when my tent kept being blown down on top of me! Luckily, each time the tent righted itself. The only damage was some rust on a couple of poles. (Rust? In only four days? Yikes.)

Before I leave Austin, I want to send a virtual wave to dance friend Jan Blondet’s relatives. ~~~ (Can’t find a symbol for waving, so that will have to do.)

Also a virtual wave and a “come on, let’s go” gesture to all of you who are following my adventure.

Let’s find out what’s in store for us!

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: Austin, Carpet Ride, cross country trip, magic journey, meeing online friends, Padre Island

Ready to Move on Down the Road

After four days of hiking on the hard sandy beaches of the Padre Islands, listening to the waves come crashing in, watching long streams of brown pelicans fly maneuvers over the gulf, feeling the weather change from misty and windy to clear, sunny, and windy, I am ready to move on down the road.

Ready for whatever comes next.

Today marks four weeks on the road (though I haven’t actually spent much time on the road. Ten days were spent visiting friends, and several days were strictly camping with no traveling at all).

I have enjoyed all phases of my journey so far, though some of Texas’s back roads got a bit tedious. Mostly I just coasted along at fifty-five miles an hour and let the road warriors fight for supremacy among themselves.

Surprisingly, I haven’t been as alone as I expected. At most campgrounds I ended up talking to people, some for quite a while, even exchanged blog information or telephone numbers with a couple of people. Since so many of us at this particular campground are leaving today, we had a farewell bonfire on the beach last night. I felt sad to leave my newest friend, though we are so simpatico, I am sure she and I will meet up again someday. But the journey beckons, and I have a new new/old friend to meet in Austin. (The visit in Austin is with a sister in grief who has been my support during the past six years. This will be the first time we meet in person, a meeting that is long overdue. I’ll also be meeting another Indigo Press author — Norm Brown, who wrote Carpet Ride.)

It is funny that people are both the best and the worst of this journey. There are great folks who are eager to learn about others and share the journey. And there are those who have no care for anyone but themselves. They run generators and use bright lights all night despite strict rules against such usage, and they think leash laws don’t apply to their nasty little beasts. Luckily, these folk are in the minority, and I haven’t let them ruin the wonder of my adventure.

And what an adventure I am having!

Even better, there is more to come. I’ll check in when I can. And when I can’t get in touch? Know that adventure is coming my way.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: Austin, best part of camping, camping, Fort Worth area, heading east, Padre Island, worst part of camping

My Beach Front Property

I left Alice, Texas feeling great. I’d had a good night’s sleep and the whole day stretched ahead of me to get my oil changed and the valves adjusted.

I headed directly to the VW dealer that offered an express oil change lane, they ushered me into line, and then my momentum crashed to a halt. Although those VW aficionados loved my car (even the office workers sneaked a peak at the great-looking classic) not a single mechanic knew how to adjust the valves. Some didn’t even know what they were (one fellow wanted to send me to a tire dealer for valve stems). The only folks who knew what needed to be done were suits, and though I cajoled, they didn’t want to get their hands dirty, not even for old time’s sake. They did, however, make numerous phone calls and tracked down a mechanic who only worked on air-cooled VWs. He had bad knees, so while we waited for his younger employee to come into work (and while we waited for the engine to cool) I visited with his wife, who worked as his office manager.

Apparently the lure of my lovely car was too much, because he adjusted the valves himself and gave the car a good going over. He thought everything looked great, was working smoothly (except that the valves had become too tight, which is why the engine got hot enough to vapor lock). He even took the time to clean my windshield and fill my tires.

And then I was on my way to Padre Island. What can I say? Ocean (well, gulf). Beachfront property. Walks on the beach. Private bird tour. New friend. (Spent most of the day talking to a woman from Colorado who pretty much lived on tbe road. Instant sisterhood.)

I paid for two nights, and then this morning paid for two more. The humidity is the highest I’ve ever experienced. Any higher, it would be called rain. And the wind is constant. (Last night I kept waking up when my tent hit me in the face because it was laid almost flat in the wind) but the tent held up. There was so much moisture on my bug this morning that I took the opportunity to clean the car. (Had no need for a hose. A soon as I wiped off the first layer of dirt/water, another layer of water appeared.

I didn’t want anyone to worry about me (and I didn’t want the car to rust after too much non-use), so I drove to town today where I found a cell signal.

I’ll be leaving Padre island on Saturday morning and will head for Austin. I will be meeting a dear friend for the first time, and I plan to get a motel room for the night so I look presentable.

But now? Ho hum. Back to Paradise.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: adjust valves, classic VW bug, high humidity, Padre Island, tent in wind, washing car without extra water

Spontaneously Charging Across the Country

Well, I did it again — drove all day. I’d have stopped if anything caught my attention (besides an empty gas tank or a full bladder), but all those hundreds of miles looked alike with only small variations. (The most exciting parts were seeing a group of javelina by the side of the road and crossing the Pecos River.) I’d been afraid of such a drive, it seemed way too much stress on me and my car, but I had no other choice.

And now it’s done. I spent the night in Alice, forty miles west of Corpus Christi. Today, if everything goes okay (and if I don’t get it into my head to do another of those drive-all-day marathons), I will get the oil changed in my car and check out Padre Island.

Friends in Texas have been sending me information of great places to check out between here and Austin (a friend and I have a hotel reservation in Austin for March 6), I’m sure there will be something in the area to capture my interest.

Sometimes I think I’ve lost the reason for taking this trip — it never was supposed to be about insanely charging across country — but it is supposed to be about being more spontaneous, and that is what I have been doing — spontaneously charging across the country.

I suppose I should have made more of an effort to stick to my few plans, such as spending a couple of nights at Big Bend to see the stars, but I still remember how uneasy the campground made me feel. And I have to listen to my instincts even if they come from nothing but exhaustion.

Luckily, that Austin date in March will slow me down. I have almost a week before I have to be there, and getting there early gains me nothing.

So let’s see if today I do a better job of finding adventure.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: becoming spontaneous, cross country trip, javelina, Pecos River, road trip

I Promised Myself I Wouldn’t Do It, but I Did It Anyway

When I started on this journey, I promised myself I wouldn’t overtax either my car or myself. I planned to take it easy, to stop frequently and not to drive more than two or three hours a day before setting up camp.

Apparently I am not good at keeping promises to myself.

I felt excited yesterday morning as I headed to Big Bend National Park. I’d been interested in the place ever since I found it high on a list of dark sky parks, parks where there is so little light pollution, you can see deep into space, and I looked forward to spending a couple if days exploring.

Although Big Bend was only about three hours from the motel where I spent the night, it felt as if I’d been on the road for many more hours than that, probably because the day was so very hot and there was so very little to see — miles and miles and miles of uninteresting desert. I suppose if I hadn’t spent more than a thousand hours hiking in the Mojave Desert the past few years or if I hadn’t recently been wooed by the colorful Sonora Desert in Arizona, I might have been more impressed. (Though I was thrilled to see a few bluebonnets lining the road in places.)

Oddly, as soon as I hit Big Bend, my car started acting up. The cheap gas I had to buy probably had more than the usual amount of ethanol, and my car hates ethanol. Also, since there had been no place to stop, I’d driven straight through to park headquarters, and when I restarted the car after checking into the park, the poor thing was vapor locked. (I just googled “72 VW vapor lock,” and found that apparently vapor lock happens more frequently when it’s getting time to have the valves adjusted, and it is getting close to that time.)

But, trooper that my bug is, as soon as it worked past the vapor, it did fine, but I started acting up. I drove more than an hour around that immense tract of land looking for an available campsite in the far-flung campgrounds, and the only ones available were cramped together in a partly flooded open lot. For some reason, the whole situation made me feel uneasy, I had lost interest in the park, and I simply didn’t want to stay.

So I left.

By the time I finally found a room at a time-warped but very quiet motel in tiny town fifty miles from anywhere, I’d been driving for more than seven hours with just a couple of quick stops for gas at unattended gas stations. (Yep, just isolated pumps. Nothing else. There truly is not much here in southwestern Texas.)

The tediousness of the drive today made me exceedingly grateful I gave up any idea of walking across the country. Even if the logistics weren’t ridiculously difficult to figure out, the terrain would be impossible. It was hard enough driving through this vastness: walking it would be deadly.

I’m wondering what today will bring. Big Bend was my last planned stop. Except for a couple of arrangements for meeting up with friends, I’ll be winging it from now on. I hope I do a better job of taking it easy than I did yesterday.

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(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)

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Tagged: Big Bend National Park, bluebonnets, driving, road trip, vapor lock