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O T. E A N I N O R IN BEE C V T. T T^ K E 



June, 1921 



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HAPPY HOURS IN TEXAS 



CONSTANCE ROOT BOYDEN 

 (Stancy Puerden) 



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HEN wo 

 left the 

 train in 

 San Antonio 

 early one morn- 

 ing in late 

 March, after a 

 warm and tiring 

 trip from Cali- 

 fornia, d i s a p- 

 pointing- because we went thru tlie gorge- 

 ously colored desert portion at night, I had 

 no idea I would be writing under the above 

 heading a few weeks later. I was half sick, 

 wholly heartsick at leaving California in 

 "blossom time," and not a little homesick 

 for our three children back in Ohio. One 

 worries over her children even when her 

 baby is 13 years old. But my personal con- 

 ductor (let "me abbreviate him into "p. c." 

 hereafter in this article. He earned the 

 title bv whisking me around a five-thousand- 

 mile loop in exactly 30 days, 9 of the nights 

 and uncounted days in so-called sleeping 

 cars.), disregarding my hints that he might 

 as well leave me in a hospital while he 

 tiansacted his business in San Antonio, took 

 me to a dear old hotel near the Alamo. Hav- 

 ing convinced the clerk, with some difficulty, 

 that we must have a very airy and cool 

 room, and having insisted that I eat some 

 breakfast, my p. e. departed and left me to 

 my own devices. 



A refreshing bath followed by a soothing 

 nap near three large, wide open windows 

 drove away headache and exhaustion and 

 presented the world as a delightful and in- 

 teresting planet again. When your wife 's 

 temper shows room for improvement try 

 that treatment on her, Mr. Subscriber. It 

 is more effectual and agreeable than any 

 bottled tonic. 



At noon my p. c. returned and during 

 lunch informed me that I was to go with a 

 friend for a drive out to Medina Lake and 

 that we must go early, as a storm was 

 threatening. Soon after we started we came 

 to a little river which winds wilfully thru 

 the heart of San Antonio. Instead of the 

 road crossing this river on a bridge in the 

 conventional way, the river appeared to 

 have the right of way and crossed the road, 

 for our friend drove right down to the water 

 and splashed into and thru it before I had 

 time to more than gasp. I knew that horses 

 could ford shallow streams but hadn 't real- 

 ized that automobiles were so accomplished. 

 Years ago there was a popular picture 

 called "A Yard of Koses," and a compan- 

 ion picture, "A Yard of Pansies. " My rea- 

 son for betraying my age by the allusion is 

 that I shall always rememljer that ride to 

 Medina Lake as ' ' Thirty Miles of Flowers. ' ' 

 Our friend to whom I am indebted for the 

 ride, B. I. Solomon of San Antonio, an ard- 

 ent Texan, altho born in Florida, apparently 

 inherited some of the wisdom of his name- 

 sake. He had previously told me he was 

 going to keep us in San Antonio until I 



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was ready to 

 write on ' ' My 

 Texas "as I had 

 written on ' ' My 

 California ' ' a 

 year ago, and 

 then he started 

 on that beauti- 

 ful " T h i r t y 

 Miles of Flow- 

 ers " drive without a hint of what was in 

 store for me. 



Words cannot do justice to flowers, nor 

 can pictures; but if an artist should make 

 an attempt to paint the wild flowers of 

 Texas he should have on his palette not only 

 all the brilliant colors known, but should 

 have the ability to mix the delicate pastel 

 shades as well. Flowers were everywhere, 

 growing at the side of the road, in the 

 fields, on rocky hillsides and even in the 

 trees. Imagine a field, its green background 

 almost covered with graceful flowers of tlie 

 purest deep blue, a rare color in flowers, 

 much the shade of certain hardy larkspurs. 

 Across the road and only a few feet from 

 the blue flowers were great masses of flam- 

 ing rose flowers, varying from salmon rose 

 to a pure rose color with no yellow in it. 

 The only cultivated flower which I can re- 

 call approaching it in brilliance is the 

 flame-colored azalea. The blue flower was 

 the Texas "bluebonnet, " the State flower. 

 It is the same lupine which grows in abund- 

 ance in California, but it seemed to me the 

 Texas lupine was more purely blue with no 

 hint of purple in it. Another wise gentle- 

 man, H. B. Parks, a Gleanings correspond- 

 ent and enthusiastic botanist, whom I met 

 the next day, told me that the bluebonnet 

 is not a honey plant but yields large stores 

 of pollen at a time when it is much needed 

 by the bees. 



The flaming rose flower is commonly 

 called the ' ' Indian Paint Brush, ' ' and is 

 similar to the bougainvillea because its true 

 flower is tiny and inconspicuous, and it is 

 the surrounding foliage which is so gorge- 

 ously colored. 



Just to mention a few more of the most 

 striking, there were pale yellow, primrose- 

 like flowers with a black blotch in the cen- 

 ter of each flower; yellow blossoms resem- 

 bling marigolds, flowers of a delicate pink 

 growing in large clusters; large, cup-shaped 

 white flowers with buds in varying shades 

 of pink, the same pink color sometimes 

 showing on the under side of the petals of 

 the fully opened flowers; cup-shaped flow- 

 ers of a brilliant wine red; and bunches of 

 blue flowers growing in ar large shrub or 

 tree, looking at a little distance like two- 

 dollar bundles of violets all over the tree. 

 On close examination these last named ap- 

 peared more like the wistaria or locust in 

 shape, and Mr. Parks told me it is known 

 as the mountain laurel in Texas on account 

 of its evergreen leaves. 



There were many other wonderful flower- 



