Country sounds...

If anyone tells you that living in the country will give you a quiet and peaceful life, don't believe them. They're not telling the truth.

As I type this, it is nearly 4:30 in the morning... Sunday morning. A train is going along the tracks in the next town and I can hear every blessed sound as the wheels move along those tracks. Then we have the engine's whistle, which used to sound very poignant years ago, but now has the decibel level of an air-horn. Three seconds after the train goes by, the coyotes start howling, which wakes up every dog in the hills here (including ours) and you can kiss the rest of your dreams goodbye.

I've been up and awake since two o'clock this morning. Since then, the train going by right this minute is the third train of the night, and I know it won't be the last. That train is miles away, but because all of the properties out here are so big, there's not much to buffer the sounds.

Our friends V & S were here this afternoon... they stopped by on their way back to Clear Lake. They had been further up in the Hill Country this morning and called me to see if we'd be home so they could say hello on their way back towards Houston. I was thrilled... we hadn't seen them since the night of our Christmas party. V & S had two of their friends with them, whom we had met before at a wedding and a baby shower, so it was an enjoyable hour for all of us that passed by all too quickly.

V asked me why I never drive into Clear Lake and Houston and without having to think about my answer, I told her that if I did that, I'd never want to come back here. V and the other two ladies looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. They said the house was so beautiful, the property so serene, and they would love to be able to get out of the City limits and live like this.

I explained to them that I didn't want to sound ungrateful, and I truly know how beautiful everything is up here, but I also know that one's mind can quickly turn to applesauce here because of a lack of really good bookstores, museums, and art galleries. And living on a big piece of property where days can go by without seeing anyone except whoever lives in your house isn't exactly a mind-expanding experience, either.

Added to the above, the cows on the neighbor's property across the road and on another neighbor's pastures behind us frequently fill the air with the saddest of sounds when their calves are taken away to market. The mama cows' cries are so pitiful as they search for their babies that sitting on our porch is downright painful and impossible. Then, when the goat-raising neighbor picks one of those goats for his Sunday dinner, there's no escape from the gut-wrenching cries as the young goat is captured, tied up, and then killed.

I watched V & S and M & G as they drove down our driveway this afternoon... headed towards Houston... they waved at us, we waved back... and I would have given everything to have gone with them.

I must change my attitude. I know that. But living out here is just flat-out hurting my heart. Not physically, but emotionally. And that's just as bad. I still love this big old house, but I wish it were somewhere else.

Noises in the night...

The coyotes have gone mad... every night, at least a dozen times after dark, we can hear them howling. Terrible sounds from both adult coyotes and their young ones. And they always sound so close, as if they're at the edge of our property or in the fields right across the road.

When the coyotes start howling, the dogs in the hills here also begin to bark, with our own Savannah being no exception. Her barking (roaring!) woke me up three times during the night, and with her final bark coming at five-thirty this morning, I just gave up and stayed up. I'm not one to take an afternoon nap, so I've been going and going ever since. Oh well. I got a lot done today.

Then there are the trains... which no longer have that soft and poignant whistle that drifts over and around the woods. Now the trains have a sound similar to that of an air-horn, only much louder. Are they kidding?  Who needs such a blast between the hours of midnight and five o'clock in the morning?  Our property is so far away from the railroad tracks, so I can only imagine how those sounds affect the people who live right near the train stations. Give us all a blessed break.

The stray gray...

We went for a walk this afternoon with Savannah... and on the way back to the house I saw that gray/white cat out in our pasture by the pond. The cat was sitting in the sunlight and looked quite comfy way out there. Didn't even move when he saw us, and my guess is that he was staying put because he saw Savannah.

I have not fed that stray cat at all. When he comes into the yard or near the porch, I take up the bowl of cat food that's out there for Gatsby and into the house it goes. After my experience with that orange stray cat, I don't want to be taking responsibility for any other strays that happen to be out there. As the neighbors said--- if you don't feed a stray, it will go away. Well, this gray cat went as far away as our pond, which is a good deal away from the porch, and I'm hoping that he's hanging around on one of the other properties when he's hungry.

We've seen a lot of deer around lately... four or five of them at a time, sometimes right on the road near our barn. When they see us, they easily jump over the fence around our pasture by the barn and off they run towards the woods. I'm surprised that Savannah hasn't barked at them when she sees them out there, but she seems content to just watch them quietly.

We found out from one of the neighbors that the peacock (Mr Carson) is now history. A coyote or a fox got him, and all that was left was a pile of feathers. He was such a beautiful bird, poor thing. The same people who owned Carson also had about 35 chickens, all of which are gone now also. Coyotes and raccoons and heaven only knows what else got to those chickens one by one until there were none.

The new neighbor across the road has gotten herself some chickens and guinea hens. We can hear the guinea hens during the day... they make such odd and insistent sounds whenever they see animals or people near their coop. D was so excited to get her chickens and guinea hens, and as far as I know, she hasn't "lost" one yet. When that starts happening, she will no doubt question her reasoning for getting chickens in the first place. I suggested to D that she not name the chickens.... naming them always makes it harder when they're killed in the coop or taken away.  Above all, one shouldn't name chickens after family members. I had the hardest time explaining to my 103-yr-old Aunt Dolly that the chicken carrying her name was taken away by a hawk and never seen again.

You have what in your barn?!

Give me a blessed country break.

Now that the holidays have come and gone, I have resumed our weekly tea here with the neighbor-ladies. We spent a nice afternoon last week talking about Christmas and New Year's and working on our first craft project (little crystal snowmen ornaments). And then we all got to talking about snakes.

I told the ladies about my episode with the little garden snake all curled up by the side door of our garage, and my successful attempt to move the snake with a well-aimed spritz from a can of wasp spray. Some of the ladies cringed at that one... after all, those little green garden snakes are harmless and besides, they eat the lizards. Well, pardon me, but I'd rather have an army of lizards out in the yard than one garden snake.

One of the ladies told us that she has had two 'chicken snakes' living in her barn for years now. Each snake gets bigger and longer as time goes on, and the barn stays completely free of field mice. One of her resident snakes is over six feet long now, which is huge for a chicken snake, but I guess if one has a constant and never-ending diet of mice, that sort of snake will continue to grow.

And how does this neighbor dispose of unwanted garden snakes in her flower beds? Not a problem... she just picks them up and relocates them. Picks them up? With one's fingers? Well of course. I repeat: give me a blessed country break.  K calmly told me that if I ever had a problem with a snake I should just call her and she'd take care of it. (Is her middle name Steve Irwin?)

As I was cleaning up after that day's tea party, I kept looking behind me and imagining a six-foot long chicken snake slithering out of the dining room. It took a good long while for me to get to sleep that night.