About Claire

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Well, at least it's my little prairie - several wide acres of tall, wild grass dotted with cedar, quietly nestled in the center of the Texas Hill Country. I was born in Austin, the state capital, where I spent most of my life. My family has been here in this state since before it became known as The Republic of Texas. Family records show that my grandmother's family traces back to the Battle of Goliad, where my distant grandfather was captured by Santa Anna to treat his wounded soldiers. Native Texans will remember the old Texas Independence battle cry, "Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!" My great-grandmother was Native American and lived in Texas with her husband, the only doctor in a small south Texas town. We've been here a long time and

I am proud to say that I am a Texan! 

For those of you who have never been to Texas and think all Texans drive Cadillacs with horns across the hood (like a British friend of mine once did when he first arrived), it may surprise you that I am a city girl, used to the amenities of city life.  When my husband's job relocated us further west in Texas, deep into the Hill County, I was timid about living in such a place, so far removed from my master-planned habitat. Would I be lonely? Or bored? And the land! I was afraid to walk through my own property. What about the snakes, and scorpions? One of those big, translucent brown creatures had already fallen out while I was changing laundry from the washer to the dryer!!! How did it get in there?? How did it survive a washing?? The three-inch creature dropped from the bundled load in my arms and plopped onto the floor by my feet as I stifled a scream and a small gag. And what about the foot-long centipedes armored in other-worldly colors that just won't die even when chopped with a shovel, first on one end, then on the other, and finally through the middle?

How unfriendly is the fauna of this semi-arid place in the center of the Friendship State! Perhaps it is the heat that makes them mean, the intense sun that overheats your skin right through your clothes, even in the dead of winter. How could I survive here? When I finally summoned the courage to venture all the way to the back of our property, I found there, operating with a quiet deviousness like the all-knowing eye of Sauron in Mordor, a large bare circle with spoke-like trails leading to the center, where an innumerable Red Army - giant marching ants, erupted from a mysterious, dark hole in the circle's center that I swear leads straight to hell! 

So I'm a little dramatic. After a while now, I have become accustomed to sharing my space these wild creatures. Or should I say, that they are sharing with me. I have accepted the challenge of this environment, and have actually embraced its potential. I've learned that there are very beautiful plants that will survive here: the Crepe Myrtle, with its stunning paper-thin blooms of every color covering tall, multi-trunked trees that will actually drip cool moisture on you if you are sitting under them to escape the summer heat; rugged and fruitful olive trees, which make me feel very sophisticated and add a Mediterranean flair; the beautiful Mexican Sycamore with its silver-backed leaves blowing in the wind like large, jazz-hands shimmering above a smooth artic bark; and my favorite, Belinda's Dream roses (thank you Texas A&M), so tough that I actually hard-rake the leaves off after a severe pruning (it's hell on earth, they love it!)

After my initial shock, I now love the benefits of this country existence. Quiet, star-filled nights making s'mores at the bonfire, long afternoons creating Art in my she-shed (Oh, did I mention I just HAD to get a she-shed? More about that in my She-Shed section), working the soil of My Garden, building bridges, planting wildflowers, and xeriscaping just about every corner of this heavenly place. I have learned to work with what nature has given me, rather than run away from it. My daughter gave me snake boots for when we burn our large pile of debris from a fallen oak or cedar. Not that I need them now. You can find me quite often shuffling out to my art studio (slash she-shed) in my slippers, although I haven't yet gotten brave enough to play hide-and-seek in the dark like my niece and nephew - barefoot (gasp!) among the cedars and cactus, like demi-gods trampling the Red Army between their toes. I also have a pergola now (thank you kind, wonderful, hard-working husband!), where I swing under the shade of Muscadine grape vines, drink my coffee, and smile as I survey what a hired contractor once called my "little piece of heaven." I still have a long way to go and an endless list(s) of to-dos, dreams, and wishes for this place. Oh, by the way, the Red Army is still there, although I admit I have several times imagined myself pouring gasoline down that dark hole and lighting it on fire (I like to blame this typically-male way of thinking on the influence of my seven brothers). But how would this grown-up explain such a terrorist act to the local volunteer fire department, especially during the frequent burn-bans? Oh well, so I'll let the fire ants live - for now. Besides, where else can we find an endless supply of captives to replenish my granddaughter's ant farm? 

I hope that you enjoy this site! I will share all I am learning about how to create beauty in tough places, how to encourage life in dry spaces, and most of all, how to be happy and enjoy the fruit of all your hard labor. God bless. And don't forget to share with me your own creativity and how it brings you joy!

 I can't wait to hear from you! Claire