Five
days a week I drive a school bus out along Creek Road then up Holder
Lane across 290 and out to Windy Hills. As the sun is rising, I
get to see lots of the country side. Along the creek, the grass
is still green but edged in tall dried grass. Some of that grass
dries out a buff or light tan color and some is a deep rusty red.
The red grass has tall stalks with fluffy tufts on the top and the
grass at the base is curled and twisted. The tan grass curls and
twists in puffy mounds and even on still mornings it looks as if
it is moving.
The cedar trees
are dark green or flocked with burnt orange pollen. Occasionally,
they will sit in groves that are so dark they look like cave openings.
The sycamore has lost its leaves but the creamy white and gray of
its trunk contrasts with the shadowy cedars. Occasionally the leaves
will cling tenaciously to the tree and give spots of red to the
skyline.
The other bare
trees are shades of gray or black making smoky lace across the hillside.
The live oak still sports its gray-green foliage and it contrasts
well against the gray of the short grasses on the hills.
No,
I would never call out Texas winter colorless, subtle and soft,
yes, but not colorless.
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