– Worth waiting for: On the banks of Sink Creek

Looking upstream
In the nearly five years that we have lived on our homestead I have never seen Sink Creek. Oh, there was evidence of its existence on the aptly named flood plain, but whenever there was a gulley washer I was either at work or it was the middle of the night or there was too much thunder and lightning to safely go outside.
Until yesterday, when the storm clouds dumped 3.5 inches of rain in a  few hours, making a river out of our front yard …

then quickly pushing off to the east, enabling me to finally take a look before the water soaked into the aquifers below. 
Our fire pit, which has stood unused through the recent years of drought, became a nascent mosquito pool …
So I undammed one end to let the water drain out …

Slogging through the recently mulched West Trail lichen farm, we were glad to see that our efforts were worthwhile as the water pooled under the branches without breaking through and washing out the path as it had in the past …
But it was the flood plain that inspired the most excitement. Water was moving, rapidly …
The creek already receding … sinking into the earth
and up to a foot deep, carrying with it seeds and silt, Mother Nature’s best planting method …

Indeed, last year’s heavy rains carried bluebonnet seeds from upstream where they bloomed for the first time on our property earlier this spring …

With this most recent deluge, I have no doubt new seeds have been spread even farther downstream.
But it was the voice of the water, chuckling through the rocks, that most delighted me (if only I could figure out how to insert a video into Blogger, you could hear it, too). Instead, I’ll just leave you with one last look from the headwaters of Sink Creek …
Looking downstream
already gone, but not forgotten.

– It’s springtime in Texas, so of course the leaves are falling

Here in the Texas Hill Country we get “fall” in the spring.  The live oaks are currently in the process of shedding the leaves they held on to all winter. It’s a great system: the new leaves push the old leaves off and grow in their place. So these trees will bare their branches over the next couple of weeks and then be covered in completely new foliage shortly thereafter …

Consequently, leaves are everywhere, blown off by the March wind and rain that roared through earlier this week …

Likewise, much of the ash from the deadwood and brush that we burned last weekend has blown and/or washed away, leaving the burn pit empty, awaiting the next installment …

Fortunately, before the rain fell I was able to shovel some of the ash onto the inner wall of the burn pit …
where it now serves as a kind of mortar for another layer of stone …

And this is the windfall lichen that was spared from the flame, a patch about 6′ wide and 12′ feet long …
bound for the lichen farm along the west trail …

Last, but not least, here’s a shot of Don using my wheelbarrow alternative, a 2′ x 3′ cement mixing tub with rope attached so it can be pulled over rocky ground and wood chip trails alike …

and an odd bit of wood found along the way …

Who knows what Don will find to do with it …

– The yin and yang of gardening: A tale of the planter and the pruner

The blog posts about brush whacking and grass growing in the Hill Country were written from the admittedly biased viewpoint of yours truly. I should add that my family nickname is “The Mad Pruner” and this is but one of my recent efforts, soon to be chipped into mulch by our faithful arborists …

Don, on the other hand, is the creator of our many rock gardens. 

He’s been able to transplant reportedly tetchy natives like mealy blue sage and Zexmenia from the floodplain, and the plants he purchases from local nurseries absolutely thrive …

Also under his watch, the Mexican feather and buffalo grasses have spread, while numerous Agaves and Spanish daggers have been artfully relocated …

My forte, on the other hand, is building compost heaps from assiduous cactus whacking efforts …

and I’m definitely better at hauling rocks and dumping them around the perimeter of the burn pile than placing them artfully into useful plant beds. Fortunately, we both love a good fire, so when the weather is right, we’re always ready …

And somehow in the end, between the adding and the taking away, things seem to take root and grow …

Stewards we aspire to be, Tweedledum and Tweedledee.