When you live up here, there just is no other ice cream. That's the rule. Or so we're told. (I'm a city girl, from Long Island. I don't usually follow all of the rules. That being said...
In the dark of night.... trucks from the Blue Bell ice cream factory were on the road after midnight, delivering this state's famous and favorite ice cream. For the time being, just four varieties of Blue Bell are available: Dutch Chocolate, Homemade Vanilla, The Great Divide, and Cookies 'n Cream. The Blue Bell company is still recovering (and most likely still reeling) from an outbreak of 'listeria' in their factories, which closed all three of their ice cream factories for the past eight months or so.
From what I hear in the Hills here, the local Blue Bell factory is not yet open and producing ice cream. They had to re-vamp, re-furbish, re-do and modernize everything in the Brenham factory, from floor to ceiling and everything in-between. As a result of that, the factory in the Hill Country is still closed, and we have no idea yet when that facility will be opening.
The pints and half-gallons of Blue Bell chocolate and vanilla that swept into the local stores last night came from their factory in Alabama. But the residents up here, who were lined up along the dark roads last night, with balloons hovering in the air, whistles and applause greeting the Blue Bell drivers... they didn't care where the ice cream came from...... they were just happy as can be to see the trucks with the much-loved Blue Bell logo. ("We eat all we can, and sell the rest.")
When the Powers That Be at Blue Bell decided to pull all of their ice cream from the supermarket freezers and close their factories, there were signs up all over town saying "We Support Blue Bell." Those same signs were also posted on the empty ice cream freezers in the local supermarkets. Those freezers stayed empty for weeks and weeks, in the hope that Blue Bell would make a quick recovery and commence making ice cream again.
When they took the "We Support Blue Bell" signs down, those were replaced with a very nice letter from the Blue Bell people, saying that they deeply regretted having to close down their factories, but they would do their best to make quick work of the re-outfitting of the factories and they hoped to be pumping out fresh and delicious Blue Bell as soon as possible. Well, most of the Spring and then the entire Summer just went on by.... and those letters from Blue Bell had been taken down from the freezer doors and those empty shelves were filled with other brands of ice cream and frozen foods.
On any given day in the local supermarkets during these past months, you could expect a road-block in the ice cream aisle... customers were just standing in front of those freezers filled with every sort of ice cream imaginable, except Blue Bell, and no one seemed to know what to buy. I don't think the Hill Country towns were selling much ice cream at all for these past months.
But now, Blue Bell is back...... and I've got a feeling that whoever went out last night to line up along the streets to watch those trucks make their first deliveries and then stood in the dark to cheer the drivers.... those people have probably already emptied out the freezers of the chocolate and vanilla Blue Bell. The Blue Bell Company was requesting that stores have a limit of four containers of ice cream to each customer, so everyone would have a chance to once again enjoy the ice cream from their favorite company.
It will take a while for Blue Bell to make enough ice cream to fully stock all the freezers of the supermarkets around the south and southwestern parts of this country... and in time, they'll once again be making everyone's favorite flavors.... and it seems to me that people here in the Hill Country are extremely loyal not only to Blue Bell, but loyal to their favorite flavor of Blue Bell ice cream.
I was not one of the crowd last night that turned out in the dark to welcome back the Blue Bell trucks. I did not plan to be at the supermarket today to buy ice cream. I'm happy that Blue Bell is back in business.... I hope that everyone who lost their jobs has the opportunity to get them back.... and I hope the Blue Bell factories are never again plagued with any sort of outbreak other than a crowd of ice cream lovers trying to decide which flavor to buy.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Got goats?
Actually, no, we don't have goats, but it seems that at least once a week I am out there on the road chasing the neighbor's goats. Give me a blessed break.
Three days in a row this week, all of the neighbor's goats have either jumped over his fences or crawled underneath them. And where do they end up? On our property, munching on the tall grass or making their way towards our pond. Yesterday, two of the larger goats were up on their hind legs underneath our Live Oak trees, happily munching on the lower branches.
Out I went yesterday and the day before, armed with the air-horn. The goats absolutely hate the sound of that thing, and so do I. But it works. And it beats having to take my car out of the garage to start the goat-convoy going back down the hill and up to the neighbor's property. Just one blast of that air-horn and the goats retreat back down towards their own property. (They know where they live... why don't they just stay over there?)
This afternoon, I was reading in the breakfast room and heard the unmistakable sound of the neighbor's muffler-less truck coming up our road. I looked out the kitchen window, and there were his goats, grazing in the tall grasses along the side of our road. Being that the neighbor was out there, I didn't even go outside to the porch..... let him take care of his own damn goats for a change.
And that's what the neighbor did, along with the help of a black and white straggly-looking dog. Heaven help that dog..... when the neighbor gets tired of him, the dog will disappear, which has happened to quite a few of his dogs since we've been here. (The goats disappear also, onto his dinner plate, but I've no idea what he does with the dogs, nor do I want to know.)
Three days in a row this week, all of the neighbor's goats have either jumped over his fences or crawled underneath them. And where do they end up? On our property, munching on the tall grass or making their way towards our pond. Yesterday, two of the larger goats were up on their hind legs underneath our Live Oak trees, happily munching on the lower branches.
Out I went yesterday and the day before, armed with the air-horn. The goats absolutely hate the sound of that thing, and so do I. But it works. And it beats having to take my car out of the garage to start the goat-convoy going back down the hill and up to the neighbor's property. Just one blast of that air-horn and the goats retreat back down towards their own property. (They know where they live... why don't they just stay over there?)
This afternoon, I was reading in the breakfast room and heard the unmistakable sound of the neighbor's muffler-less truck coming up our road. I looked out the kitchen window, and there were his goats, grazing in the tall grasses along the side of our road. Being that the neighbor was out there, I didn't even go outside to the porch..... let him take care of his own damn goats for a change.
And that's what the neighbor did, along with the help of a black and white straggly-looking dog. Heaven help that dog..... when the neighbor gets tired of him, the dog will disappear, which has happened to quite a few of his dogs since we've been here. (The goats disappear also, onto his dinner plate, but I've no idea what he does with the dogs, nor do I want to know.)
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Minus one orange cat....
.... and one peacock. And no, that is not a complaint.
I've seen the peacock, whom I had christened Mr. Carson.... his blue-and-green feathered self is down the hill at his rightful owners, back where he belongs with the constantly increasing flock of chickens on that property. It's strange that we haven't heard Carson's love-sick calls as the sun sets every night. Maybe they found him a female companion and he no longer has the urge to roam around the neighboring properties.
As for the orange cat.... I could have sworn I heard a cat out on the porch the other night. I did not, however, come downstairs and put the lights on to see if it was indeed that blasted orange cat. I have a new rule now.... I am not (NOT) going to feed stray cats. Period. End of story. Not going to feed stray cats. (Unless, of course, the stray happens to be a long-haired blue-eyed Birman who steals one's heart in a second and then proceeds to break it into pieces for years and years.)
Driving into town one day this past week, I did see two orange cats up at one of the other properties near the main highway. That particular property raises and trains horses, which means they have a lot of barns, which means they have a lot of mice.... which also means they always have an array of cats up there to control the mice. Mostly all of their cats happen to be orange and white. And the orange/white stray that was holding our porch hostage for a year and a half could very well have come from that particular property. I'm hoping now that he has gone back to whence he came. I'm sure he was disappointed that I wasn't here every night to feed him at ten o'clock... and he wouldn't have accepted my excuse of touring castles and cathedrals and gardens in England.
We do have a new resident on the side of the porch... a huge black and yellow spider that I'm calling Charlotte. She is huge, and getting larger with each insect meal she's been consuming.... her web is enormous, and looks very pretty with a smattering of morning dew on it. Problem with the location of her web is that the barn swallows tend to fly right through it as they pop in and out of the wisteria bush near the back steps... which damages part of Charlotte's web... which gets that poor spider into a re-decorating frenzy at least twice a day.
Oh well.... Charlotte will survive the constant renovations... the birds are quick enough not to get caught in the web themselves... Mr. Carson may have a blue-and-green feathered lady-friend down at the bottom of the hill... and life goes on, with or without that blasted orange cat.
I've seen the peacock, whom I had christened Mr. Carson.... his blue-and-green feathered self is down the hill at his rightful owners, back where he belongs with the constantly increasing flock of chickens on that property. It's strange that we haven't heard Carson's love-sick calls as the sun sets every night. Maybe they found him a female companion and he no longer has the urge to roam around the neighboring properties.
As for the orange cat.... I could have sworn I heard a cat out on the porch the other night. I did not, however, come downstairs and put the lights on to see if it was indeed that blasted orange cat. I have a new rule now.... I am not (NOT) going to feed stray cats. Period. End of story. Not going to feed stray cats. (Unless, of course, the stray happens to be a long-haired blue-eyed Birman who steals one's heart in a second and then proceeds to break it into pieces for years and years.)
Driving into town one day this past week, I did see two orange cats up at one of the other properties near the main highway. That particular property raises and trains horses, which means they have a lot of barns, which means they have a lot of mice.... which also means they always have an array of cats up there to control the mice. Mostly all of their cats happen to be orange and white. And the orange/white stray that was holding our porch hostage for a year and a half could very well have come from that particular property. I'm hoping now that he has gone back to whence he came. I'm sure he was disappointed that I wasn't here every night to feed him at ten o'clock... and he wouldn't have accepted my excuse of touring castles and cathedrals and gardens in England.
We do have a new resident on the side of the porch... a huge black and yellow spider that I'm calling Charlotte. She is huge, and getting larger with each insect meal she's been consuming.... her web is enormous, and looks very pretty with a smattering of morning dew on it. Problem with the location of her web is that the barn swallows tend to fly right through it as they pop in and out of the wisteria bush near the back steps... which damages part of Charlotte's web... which gets that poor spider into a re-decorating frenzy at least twice a day.
Oh well.... Charlotte will survive the constant renovations... the birds are quick enough not to get caught in the web themselves... Mr. Carson may have a blue-and-green feathered lady-friend down at the bottom of the hill... and life goes on, with or without that blasted orange cat.
Friday, August 14, 2015
News from the back porch...
Getting settled in after our ten day trip to the British countryside. In my mind's eye, I can still see all those narrow winding roads and the thatched-roof cottages surrounded by lovingly-tended gardens.
When we first walked up the stairs to the back porch, I noticed that the spider web was still there... the spider (a black and yellow one) had started it the day before we left for England. Not only was the web still there, but it's much larger than it was on the morning we left. The spider is also getting larger, feasting on flies and crickets and other bugs that keep getting stuck in that web. I've named the spider "Charlotte," of course.... which tells you I'm a fan of E.B. White's books. I go up and down those porch steps all day long, and the spider web is not in my way so I'm leaving it just where it is. I'm sure the spider is pleased.... and I'm wondering just how big that spider will grow. (If you don't find current entries in this blog, then you'll know I'm stuck in Charlotte's web.)
The porch is minus one cat..... the orange/white stray hasn't been on the porch since we got home. Wonder of wonders, there is a god. That blasted cat was used to getting food late at night, every night, so without me being here, his orange/white tummy must have been empty and my guess is that he moved on to another property. Happy day indeed. Both Gatsby and Mickey have been napping on the porch since we got home, instead of sleeping under the bushes and trying to avoid the orange cat. That blasted cat had been here for a year and a half, and in all that time, he never did learn proper manners. So I guess all my neighbors here were right... they told me a long time ago to quit feeding him and he would go away. Lesson learned: Do not feed a stray cat unless you want to make him part of your family.
It's been over 100 degrees since we've been home, and our friends tell us that it was way over 100 degrees for all the days we were gone. During our stay in England, we were enjoying Spring-like weather with temperatures never going above 78 degrees. There were days that felt very cool to me, and I bought a very popular English-style scarf to wrap around my neck. I love that scarf.... hand-woven and colorful, and I know I will wear it a lot here during the cooler weather... which should come around late November.
Thanks to friend C, our house was sparkling and welcoming when we got home, and the cats were safe and happy, both inside and outside. Staying in the quaint but small British Bed and Breakfast homes makes one appreciate our spacious rooms and large bathrooms. Driving along the British countryside also makes one appreciate the wide roads here in the states. However, the farmlands in England are pristine and neat, gorgeously planted and tended, with ancient stone walls surrounding the fields. The British can teach us all a thing or two about having pride-of-place in one's surroundings.
When we first walked up the stairs to the back porch, I noticed that the spider web was still there... the spider (a black and yellow one) had started it the day before we left for England. Not only was the web still there, but it's much larger than it was on the morning we left. The spider is also getting larger, feasting on flies and crickets and other bugs that keep getting stuck in that web. I've named the spider "Charlotte," of course.... which tells you I'm a fan of E.B. White's books. I go up and down those porch steps all day long, and the spider web is not in my way so I'm leaving it just where it is. I'm sure the spider is pleased.... and I'm wondering just how big that spider will grow. (If you don't find current entries in this blog, then you'll know I'm stuck in Charlotte's web.)
The porch is minus one cat..... the orange/white stray hasn't been on the porch since we got home. Wonder of wonders, there is a god. That blasted cat was used to getting food late at night, every night, so without me being here, his orange/white tummy must have been empty and my guess is that he moved on to another property. Happy day indeed. Both Gatsby and Mickey have been napping on the porch since we got home, instead of sleeping under the bushes and trying to avoid the orange cat. That blasted cat had been here for a year and a half, and in all that time, he never did learn proper manners. So I guess all my neighbors here were right... they told me a long time ago to quit feeding him and he would go away. Lesson learned: Do not feed a stray cat unless you want to make him part of your family.
It's been over 100 degrees since we've been home, and our friends tell us that it was way over 100 degrees for all the days we were gone. During our stay in England, we were enjoying Spring-like weather with temperatures never going above 78 degrees. There were days that felt very cool to me, and I bought a very popular English-style scarf to wrap around my neck. I love that scarf.... hand-woven and colorful, and I know I will wear it a lot here during the cooler weather... which should come around late November.
Thanks to friend C, our house was sparkling and welcoming when we got home, and the cats were safe and happy, both inside and outside. Staying in the quaint but small British Bed and Breakfast homes makes one appreciate our spacious rooms and large bathrooms. Driving along the British countryside also makes one appreciate the wide roads here in the states. However, the farmlands in England are pristine and neat, gorgeously planted and tended, with ancient stone walls surrounding the fields. The British can teach us all a thing or two about having pride-of-place in one's surroundings.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Back at the ranch....
We were gone for ten days.... flew to London and rented a car and drove around The Cotswolds. This was our second trip "across the pond," having gone to London last year and loved it so much we decided to see the English countryside on this trip.
The entire time we were there, I didn't even give a split-second thought to spiders and scorpions, coyotes and snakes...... never crossed my mind. Except for a few bees in the gardens and a tiny spider on the steering wheel of the car, that was the closest encounter I had to the insect world.
I don't know what it is about England... peaceful and serene in the country villages, lively and eclectic in the cities. I must have seen at least a dozen thatched-roof cottages that I would have wanted to spend the rest of my life in... provided, of course, that they had a library big enough to hold all of my books.
Driving the car there was an adventure for my husband... steering wheel on the right side of the car, driving on the left side of the road. Took him a couple of days to get the hang of that.... and even for me, sitting in the passenger seat on the left side of the car, it felt strange not to have a steering wheel in front of me.
In the midst of our trip, we met a friend of mine that I've known since the 1970s.... we spent the day in a quiet village, exploring an ancient Abbey and its gardens, walking around the tiniest of streets with the most charming shops, and having "Bubble and Squeak" for lunch at a truly English cafe. After not seeing J for at least 30 years, but keeping in touch with letters and cards and eMails, spending the day with her felt as if we'd seen one another just last week.
I'd go back to England in a heartbeat.... back to London to walk around all of the museums again... back to the Cotswold villages with the tiny shops and winding streets and tea rooms and bookshops wherever you look. I love it there, all of it... the bookshops of Charing Cross Road, the market squares in the tiny villages, the storybook cottages, the beautifully tended gardens, the graciousness of the British... whatever you're looking for in England, you will find it there.
We came back to a clean house and happy cats, thanks to friend C who took care of everything while we were gone. After ten days of Spring-like weather in England, it was 106 degrees when we got off the plane in Austin. Very hot, extremely hot, and it didn't rain a drop the whole time we were gone. Dog days of August indeed. Welcome back to Texas.
The entire time we were there, I didn't even give a split-second thought to spiders and scorpions, coyotes and snakes...... never crossed my mind. Except for a few bees in the gardens and a tiny spider on the steering wheel of the car, that was the closest encounter I had to the insect world.
I don't know what it is about England... peaceful and serene in the country villages, lively and eclectic in the cities. I must have seen at least a dozen thatched-roof cottages that I would have wanted to spend the rest of my life in... provided, of course, that they had a library big enough to hold all of my books.
Driving the car there was an adventure for my husband... steering wheel on the right side of the car, driving on the left side of the road. Took him a couple of days to get the hang of that.... and even for me, sitting in the passenger seat on the left side of the car, it felt strange not to have a steering wheel in front of me.
In the midst of our trip, we met a friend of mine that I've known since the 1970s.... we spent the day in a quiet village, exploring an ancient Abbey and its gardens, walking around the tiniest of streets with the most charming shops, and having "Bubble and Squeak" for lunch at a truly English cafe. After not seeing J for at least 30 years, but keeping in touch with letters and cards and eMails, spending the day with her felt as if we'd seen one another just last week.
I'd go back to England in a heartbeat.... back to London to walk around all of the museums again... back to the Cotswold villages with the tiny shops and winding streets and tea rooms and bookshops wherever you look. I love it there, all of it... the bookshops of Charing Cross Road, the market squares in the tiny villages, the storybook cottages, the beautifully tended gardens, the graciousness of the British... whatever you're looking for in England, you will find it there.
We came back to a clean house and happy cats, thanks to friend C who took care of everything while we were gone. After ten days of Spring-like weather in England, it was 106 degrees when we got off the plane in Austin. Very hot, extremely hot, and it didn't rain a drop the whole time we were gone. Dog days of August indeed. Welcome back to Texas.
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