My mother was a single mom with three girls. She worked hard, but without any support from my father or any other family members, money was hard to come by. So when the weekend rolled around we would load up the cooler with Shasta pop (at .5 a can), hard boiled eggs, boiled hot dogs, and potato salad. And we'd drive out to a park. Usually, we'd head out to Garner State Park in the Texas Hill Country.
I know you readers from outside of Texas hear us talk about the Hill Country like it's God's back yard. And it is. But it might be hard for you to see. It is not lush and thick with trees like the wonderful woods in Georgia and the Carolinas. The hills are not majestic like the mountains of Colorado or magical like the hills of Kentucky.
Our trees are slightly gray in color; even the old trees seem more like shrubs than the wonder that is the woods of Northern California.
But we are pulled here.
I think it is the psychology of sparseness. I think it is the short-lived green season, the flowers that blanket the earth and burn away with the heat and drought in no time at all.
So, I don't boil the eggs and hotdogs anymore. But I do pile in the car with people I love and drive. It is my favorite weekend activity. A drive, some music, some photos. And maybe a bit of barbecue to celebrate my comparative wealth.
Hop in, girls.