Biker In Texas: South Texas

The “ride” was only a few miles long, from our doorstep to the Flour Bluff branch of the public library. There, drum circle members hosted a reception for the opening of an exhibit of art by Larry “Running Turtle” Salazar, holy man, educator and advocate.

Art can’t be carried away in a camera, it’s meant to be viewed first-hand, and so I haven’t tried to re-present the exhibit, here. The photos are to try to convey the feeling of the exhibit.

This item is titled, “South Texas Javelina Dance Stick”. The painted skull honors the spirit of the animal. Coyote and a couple other animals were also represented on dance sticks.

In a corner of the gallery, items made and decorated by Larry, including, a buffalo skull dedicated to, newly-canonized, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, his walking stick, a buffalo skin bag for collecting medicinal plants, and Larry’s ceremonial shirt.

I found the detail of the elk hide shirt is quite interesting. The centerpiece is a representation of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, and is an example of the beautiful beadwork executed by Larry’s missus.

The tassels are made from the hair of mustangs attached to shell casings of the same caliber ammunition used by the US Army to enforce the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

Depicted on the buffalo hide, the sacred colors of the four cardinal directions on the back of a turtle. “Turtle Island” is the name the Iroquois gave to North America. The birds represent the four directions, note: the Eagle in the north, the Condor in the south. They are part of a prophecy that the eagle and the condor will dance together (a phenomena witnessed first-hand by many) just prior to the spiritual joining of north and south and the return of the Ancestors.

The People will be united, the importance and power of women will be recognized and there will be a return to traditional values of respect for the earth and for each other.

After the exhibit was officially opened, the public was invited to stay for refreshments. The practice of smudging with smoke from sage was explained and visitors were invited to participate. A demonstration of drumming and Native song rounded out the event. A final prayer was offered, each person sitting in the drum circle putting his left hand on the drumhead, those outside the circle touching the shoulders of the drummers so that they, too, were connected.

In all, another great afternoon in Paradise.

I guess the time got away from me, what with an actual South Texas winter flying in the face of “global warming” and the accompanying ennui (French for “my ass is dragging”). No sooner had the sun begun trying to make an appearance than a wave of exotic pollen, attacked. The accompanying symptoms kept the sexy granny and me in the barn, warm and out of the damp wind for a couple of weekends.
Not even the intrepid Jo was immune to the chilly grope of early spring (granted, some of our excursions began well after nightfall).
That’s the story of why I have been remiss in posting to Rides and Tales for the past month, that, and the dog peed on it.

Sunday, last, the luckiest girl in Flour Bluff and I snagged a couple of cameras, a couple of warm jackets and one big yella bike and went in search of spring. More to the point, we went in search of wildflowers.
There was a rumor of color of color in, what we considered, and unlikely area. We rode south and west of our town buffeted by wind that blew unimpeded across empty fields, the only color being John Deere Green and Massey-Ferguson red. Plumes of dust against the sky marked where tractors, too far away to be seen with the nekkid eye, plowed.

We made the town of Bishop on US-77 and the optimist in me, who had never crossed 77 at this particular spot, was still hoping for the best. It’s purely coincidental that 666 was the designation of the rode we traveled from thence (thence?)

The view from the saddle improved as we drew closer to the town of Banquete (Spanish: Banquet). The roadside flowers contrasting vividly against the lingering winter browns.

On this end of the road, buttercups flourish, including a white variety I never have noticed in the Bluff

The land rolls, slightly, here, probably due to the number of creeks that flow through the area. You can tell that the land drops, a little, behind the field of yellow and lavender flowers.

As we rode north we discovered that the most vivid displays were not on the right-of-way, but in fields and farmhouse yards.

Reaching an intersection we turned west passing through the bustling burg of Orange Grove on our way to F-M 534, which follows close to the west side of Lake Corpus Christi. We were fortunate that traffic was very light since there is no shoulder and I didn’t want to go off-roading on the Valkyrie.

I’ve been told that the aforementioned town of Orange Grove was name so by German settlers who were impressed by fields of these flowers, rather than by the “proximity” of the orange groves in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, 140 miles away.

What’s a post on Texas wildflowers without flowering Yuccas?

F-M 534 is well maintained, interesting and runs along an area not yet over delvel0ped.

The names of the wide spots along the road are interesting, as well. “Lagarto” is Spanish for “alligator; “Dinero” means “money”, or course and “Swinney Switch is English for “Swinney Switch”.

Swinney Switch is also home of “Horneys”, a very friendly honky tonk where the ever-present smoke from the barbecue pits wafts by ever-present motorcyclists.

Horneys is our turn-around. After leaving, we again found F-M 666 and traveled through San Patricio, home of some of pre-Republic Irish settlers and then onto the super slab and home. Just another day in paradise.