Archive: March, 2013 - Gary Borders

Riding Shotgun Through the Pastures

Pecan Grove San Gabriel (Click on the link to the left to see a photo from the ranch.) SOUTH OF THE SAN GABRIEL RIVER — It is a glorious spring morning for a ride through the pastures, two dogs flanking the pickup as my acquaintance drives slowly down the dry ruts to show me the place that her father bought in the mid-1940s, just under 200 acres as I recall. The wind seems to blow constantly this time of year in Central Texas. Wildfires are a constant danger as the drought continues. There is plenty of grass left on this farm, because she sold off all but nine of her cows after the brutal...

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No Wonder the Book Looked Familiar

I was feeling faintly flush with cash, having received a bit of lagniappe, so I decided to saunter down to the bookstore and browse the bargain bin. I needed a break from either working on my own stuff or reading heavy history — preferably  a novel for under $10 in either trade paperback or hardcover. I have quit buying small paperbacks because the type is too small, I tire of trying to hold them open, and the paper quality is crummy. I have become a book snob in my near-dotage. Besides, shelf space is at a premium until I get busy in the shop, and building a bookcase is way down the to-do list....

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Reflections on Spring Break, A Year Later

It is spring break week in East Texas. Mother Nature decided to cooperate with glorious weather — crisp mornings, warm afternoons, brilliant skies, redbud trees blooming in front yards, azalea blossoms beginning to make an appearance. I’m grateful my Beautiful Mystery Companion and daughter Abbie received a respite from school, the former as a professor, the latter as a high-school freshman. We have no grand plans but will get away for a few days as a family. For me, this week has been a time to reflect on how life has turned out, at least to this point. It seems minutes ago that we were...

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Hauling Stuff, Feeling the Pain

I’ve been hauling a lot of stuff around the last few weeks. My brothers and I cleared out a storage unit that held boxes of photo albums and the last of our late parents’ possessions. We at last tackled the emotional task of dividing up those items. That meant I also had to move the stuff I had stored in the same unit to a smaller space. I am not being imprecise by calling it stuff. Much of it defies more specific categorization. It is stuff I am loath to part with because it might come in handy some day, but don’t have space for at the house. A couple of old doors that someday I plan...

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