It might be the season of the Crossvine. I planted it last year to grow on the new gazebo. It seemed to prosper, but not flourish. Then winter came, and I had no idea how it would fare as it died back and seemed to disappear.

I did my tax prep yesterday. I use an accountant. He sends me a booklet. I fill it out. I know people who do their own taxes. But I’m not that smart.

It was another nice day in the yard. Except this time, I was digging. Thistle’s. The big, aggressive kind. The one’s who’s leaves will bite at the faintest touch.

Spent time with my flowers yesterday. No pruning or digging. Just looking and touching.

Wow. I slept the whole night through. Not something I normally do. Feels good though. To go to bed and wake up at the appointed hour. Reminds me of my youth. I don’t get that reminder a lot these days.

It’s the final week before I go in to get my aneurysm repaired. As almost always happens whenever I have a procedure, e.g. hernia repair or colonoscopy, that puts me to sleep, I wonder about waking up.

We’re back to love. There are lines in a song I like. They say, “I think that love is so much easier than you realize. If you can give yourself to someone then you should.” I like that thought.

I’m coming down from the mountains today, even though I spent most of yesterday reading about them, the ones in Big Bend. Today I’m back in the Hill Country…

I’ve been waxing euphoric about mountains the last several days, and I see no reason to stop. Because I enjoy these mountains, the mountains of Big Bend. It’s tempting to say they stole my heart, but it’s more appropriate to say I made a place for them in it.

It has come to me that I can see. And not because I look out and see mountains, but simply because I look, and the mountains come to me.

My love. West Texas. The Big Bend. Loves me not. Sure. There’s the sparkling smile of a midnight sky. The warm embrace of the morning sun. The sweet kiss of a soft breeze. But it’s only a place and its warm embrace can easily turn me to dust.

I think I’ve fallen in love. West Texas. Big Bend. The high peaks of the Chisos. The Bofecillos. The calderas of The Solitario and Pine Canyon. The clotted veins of dried lava tubes. The sky-high piles of volcanic ash doing its best to cover the remnants of dead seas.

There were times, after we moved to the country south of Houston, when we’d find ourselves on deserted back roads after dark as we returned home. On nights of the full moon, it was possible to turn off the car’s lights and see clearly the road ahead.

It was a day of woodworking yesterday. Simple stuff. I’m building a small deck to serve as a foundation for the cabinet holding the pool supplies.

I’m still tending my gardens. Pulling up errant grasses, henbit and Velcro weed (Galium aparine). The latter is truly a weird pest in that it adheres to anything it touches except metal.

I had a lovely day on the golf course yesterday. We got off early. Had the course mostly to ourselves. The weather was cloudy to start, but the sun came out. I hit more good shots than bad.

The forecast high today is 80 which pretty much sums up Texas on any given day. If you don’t like the weather, wait, it will change. This is February, it should be cold.

It’s amazing how a cleared patch of ground makes me feel. Good. The area around the gazebo is nearly done. I braved the cold yesterday to get in a bit more work.

I had an epiphany yesterday. As I changed the sheets on my bed, I thought perhaps I should change the pillow shams as well. After all, they sit there every day collecting dust. So, maybe they should be washed.

Took a look at my yard and gardens the other day and realized they need some work. So, I’ve been giving it to them. I’m on my hands and knees pulling weeds and winter grasses.