FARM LIFE FROM A FARM WIFE: A hot time soaking in the Texas culture

Chewing up miles and miles of flat, productive land, we noticed corn and soybeans stretching far as the eye could see. Wind turbines everywhere along with pastures of Charolaise cattle, red and black Angus beefers, sheep and chickens with squat pig barns full of pigs.

Our destination? To visit our daughter in Texas, with a 2,800-mile round trip over the course of a week. Depending on our atlas and road signs, we didn’t care to use our phones much. Our adult kids were dumbstruck.

“Huh? What are you, 100 years old?”

“It’s not your phones. It’s the user.”

“How do you even know when to turn left or right if you’re looking at a MAP?”

Driving through Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri and finally the rolling hills of Oklahoma, we discovered a beautiful golf course at Arrowhead State Park near McAlester, Oklahoma. After two days on the road, the stretch and walk along the course was much needed.

The closer we got to Texas, the hotter the weather. Opening our car door it hit me like a full-body hot flash, intense and relentless, air as thick as molasses. Never in my life was I more thankful for air conditioning.

Weeping wonderfully, we met up with our daughter and, after early morning base worship and breakfast, decided to hit another course. This time, we were a threesome enjoying a members-only country club, gaining access through our daughter’s leader. The course was flawless, the tee boxes works of art. The stately homes lining the course had sculptured landscaping, manicured lawns and outdoor areas complete with swimming pools and large-screen TVs. It was so intimidating, we muffed our way through the first hole.

Enjoying Texas ribeyes and topping meals off with ice cream to keep cool, we relished days with our daughter. One day she drove us into Arlington, touring Jerry Jones’ AT&T stadium, a retractable-roof monstrosity that can be expanded to fit 105,000 people. Our tour guide, an elderly gentleman who talked nonstop for three hours, told us everything we ever wanted to know about the stadium. We were the only Wisconsinites there, and he was very polite.

Everything was state-of-the-art, including the massive Jumbotron, which was awarded the Guinness World Record for the world’s largest HD video display. According to our guide, it contains 30 million light bulbs and 25,000 square feet of video displays with a hefty $40 million price tag, weighing in at a whopping 1.2 million pounds. To be honest, I’ll take the awesomeness and tradition of Lambeau any day.

On the drive to Arlington, we bypassed Dallas but got a good look at the metropolis, trying not to glance at the speedometer as we were keeping up with four lanes of mad traffic flying around the city. The dexterity and sheer guts of every driver on the road, including our daughter, was mind-blowing. She’s driven many times to Dallas taking missionaries to and from Dallas-Fort Worth airport, so is well-versed and we trusted her completely.

Next on our agenda that day was the Stockyards in Fort Worth. My husband wanted to witness the cattle drive and tour the yards. Getting out of our car we were hit with the harshest hot a body can endure; a physical presence. Standing in the sun, I felt like a melting Popsicle; the trickle of sweat starting from the back of my neck all the way down the small of my back. It was brutal. (What did I expect in Texas at the tail end of August?)

Slowly making our way around the yards, we saw a group of young adults decked out in their finest with one stand-out female adorned in a vibrant red and white Southern-belle type of gown, the attendants lifting her train as she walked. We discovered it was a quinceanera, a celebration of a Latina girl’s 15th birthday, widely celebrated throughout Hispanic America. The entire group was jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Finding a spot on the sidewalk under the shade of a tree, we waited for the cattle drive to begin. Soon we could see the longhorns making their way down the cobblestone street. Expectation of this event was so hyped we were bound to be disappointed. The poor longhorns (all eight of them) seemed sad and downtrodden. Their huge horns weighed down their poor heads as they plodded along, escorted by cowboys astride horses. It was well-handled and very safe — just a “That’s all there is?” sort of disappointment. It was over almost before it had begun.

According to the history of the Stockyards on www.fortworthstockyards.org, “As a drover headed cattle up the Chisholm Trail to the railheads, he had one last stop for rest and supplies: Fort Worth. Beyond that he’d be crossing the Red River into Indian Territory.” The website had fascinating facts.

Too soon we shared heartbreaking goodbye hugs. Enjoying the time with our daughter was what I cherished most about our trip south. The diversity of God’s creation astounds me and while it was good to go, it was so good to come home, safe and sound. Thank You, Father!

(“To Him who made the heavens with skill, for His loving kindness is everlasting.” Psalms 136:5)

Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.