7-Day Forecast for Latitude 32.02°N and Longitude 102.09°W (Elev. 2772 ft)

7-Day Forecast for Latitude 32.02°N and Longitude 102.09°W (Elev. 2772 ft)

Photo Lineup...also known as FaceBook

How long have you been using FaceBook?

Just yesterday, it occurred to me that I remember FaceBook as being touted as a social networking site for college kids! I didn't even go there, because I instantly got an "Animal House" image in my mind's eye of what might be going on. I imagined that they were using a new language that I would not understand and posting pictures of the latest all-night keg party. In other words, what business would I have on a college social networking site?

Then I spent a year in Afghanistan and was introduced to the site by others in a similar predicament, how to best communicate with friends and loved ones from a third world country in the middle of an insurgency? Email was starting to feel like snail mail did when I lived and worked on Okinawa back in the seventies. Something was just lacking.

So, I jumped on FaceBook and never looked back. It has taken me a while to grow accustomed to all of the ins and outs of how to use a social networking site. I made my share of rookie mistakes. I have gone through periods of adding people to my friends list and later regretting it and "un-friending" them. How embarrassing is that?

Of course, Facebook is full of cutesy applications (they are called "apps") that allow you to send hearts and hugs and kisses to all your special friends. As my wife says, if you really wanted to say something nice and really care about that person, why don't you send them a personal note instead? A personal note means something! I'm not sure what it means when someone sends me a cupcake. I can't figure out how to eat it.

Then there are all the games you can play and annoy your friends by sending updates on your progress to some undefined goal. Yes, I played Mafia Wars, after resisting it for about a year and a half. It didn't take that long to figure out that I don't know what the goal is. As far as I can tell, the goal is to keep doing it from now on. It is maddeningly addictive! Then I began to realize how much time I wasted playing a game with no point, no goal, and no end. (I also picked up a number of "mafia" friends along the way. Good grief!)

I have actually "un-friended" people just because I got tired of getting their cutesy updates. Someone slopped the hogs, someone else cleaned all the poop out of their badly neglected virtual aquarium, and another iced underworld crime bosses! I guess it means that Boss Hog now sleeps with the fish. And, of course, I wonder how many people "un-friended" me while I rose to mafia fame and fortune?

So, you might be wondering, then why am I still on FaceBook? That is a legitimate question. I am not a college student, I am not into cutesy, and I am not an avid mindless game player. So, what's in it for me? Why do I continue? I can think of three interesting, maybe even compelling reasons.

Reason One

Over the years I have made friends from literally all over the United States and the World. We stay in touch through Facebook. While at the FBI National Academy in Virginia, I became very good friends with my roommate from Lithuania. Rinas and I spent a lot of time together, and I hate to say it, but it was hard to part when our Academy ended. I knew that I might not ever see him again. We stayed in touch by email, and suddenly, his email account went dead. He got a new assignment, moved to a new town, and something happened. I wish I could locate him again, but so far, after many years, I have not been able to re-establish contact with Rinas.

If we had been using Facebook back then, I could probably still find him. I remember a time when people would obtain new email addresses just to stay one jump ahead of the SPAM. Usually, although not always, they would send an announcement on their old email address to herald their jump to light speed away from SPAM and to ask all of their friends to update to the new email address. However, sometimes I forgot to do that, they forgot to do that, or we had just grown apart and neither of us bothered.

On Facebook, there is a certain degree of stability and continuity that helps one maintain important contacts with friends, family, and associates. It is a good tool.

Reason Two

Being the product of a nuclear family (meaning that at some point someone split the atom and broke up the family unit) it has helped me find people. After forty-five years of having completely lost touch with one side of my original family, one of those family members found me on FaceBook. All most overnight, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. began to send friend requests and connect with me on FaceBook. I have lost count of the number of times someone has said, "I remember Mom and Dad talking about you, but we didn't know what happened to you."

It was a most humbling experience (and continues to be humbling) to make contact one by one with all of these long lost relatives. I have enjoyed viewing their pictures and learning about their lives. This family stretches from San Diego, Ca. to Kissimmee, Fl.

Even though I have not seen many of these relatives since I was five years old, I remember many of them. I remember houses and places and people. I remember kindnesses and family. It has been a gratifying and sometimes emotional journey as I renew these family connections. It probably would not have happened without FaceBook. Again, FaceBook is a good tool.

Reason Three

Having grown up in West Texas, I am profoundly aware of what I did not, and in some cases, still do not know about the world around me. As a kid, I can only remember sparrows in the trees. I do not remember seeing any other bird. I think the day came when I just stopped looking.

Driving outside of the city, I only saw mesquite and weeds. It was somewhat green in the Spring, and grey/brown the rest of the year. I had the impression that about the only wild life outside the city limits was rattlesnakes, rabbits, and coyotes. I also had the impression that wildlife only existed in exotic places like Colorado, Louisiana, and Alaska.

Having become involved with Burr Williams, the Executive Director of the Sibley Nature Center in Midland, Texas, I began to see, through his efforts, the value of FaceBook for research, education, and sharing with adult learners. This year, I was elected the President of the Llano Estacado Chapter of Texas Master Naturalists , and it became my dream to see our Chapter with a presence on FaceBook. It is one thing to have a web page, but quite another to have a real-time dynamic presence in cyberworld! So, the Llano Estacado Chapter now has a page on FaceBook!

As you have probably noticed, I learned how to turn words into hyperlinks that will take you to some of the features I am describing. I encourage everyone to become a fan of our FaceBook page and to visit the other websites. I am tickled pink at the results in only a little over a month for our FaceBook page. It is meeting my expectations and growing all the time!

As part of this effort, I have spent time daily working on smoothing out the rough spots as our page grows. There are limitations to what FaceBook offers, but I am more than willing to work within those limitations to get our efforts off the drawing board and in front of anyone who wants to explore. For me, this is exciting!

Of course, I am learning new things all the time. This blog, for instance, was actually inspired by the blog of Dr. Susan Tomlinson, Texas Tech University. Her blog, The Bike Garden, is amazing! I am not even in her league. That doesn't matter (since it isn't a contest) though, because it inspired me to come here and explore another way of communicating passions with my fellow explorers and learners.

Just today, through this blog, I have shared links to other worlds with you. If only one person follows a link to something new that enriches his/her life, then it was worth every word I typed today!

Wow! We live in an amazing time, FaceBook, webpages, blogs, and who knows what is next? Surf on my friends, there is still time to catch the next good wave!

Always Bring A Camera

I was driving to town the other day, and as is my nature, I was scanning everything around me. Suddenly, to my right, in a field, just a few miles from town, I spotted a flock of Curlews. I had only ever seen one in the past, and I really wanted to get a picture of these beauties! No camera.

There were between twenty and thirty of these curious birds in plain view. I quickly got on the phone and tried to encourage some friends to meet me there with a camera. Nothing doing.

So, I drove to the Sibley Nature Center, picked up my friend Richard with his camera, and we headed back out to try and get some shots. As you have probably guessed, they were gone when we got there. We drove around for thirty of forty minutes trying to find them, but the opportunity was lost. However, as we returned to town, I had to stop and point out a beautiful Mule Deer Buck on the side of the road on South County Road 120. Mule deer? Right here in Midland? Yes! (Richard has the picture.)



Wouldn't you know it, the very next week I was headed to town again, when I saw four wild turkey in a field not one mile from town. Wild Turkey, not just in Midland County, but less than a mile from the city limit. Yes, as you can see, I had my camera with me!

Two toms and two hens between the Midland Fire Department Training area and the tank farms along Fairgrounds Rd. I watched them for a few minutes in fascination as the Tom would lift up a sprig and try to strip the grain from the end. (See the first picture)

I find this amazing. It amazes me because as a child growing up in Odessa, I never expected to see much more than jackrabbits and cotton tails around here. As I have become more and more involved as a naturalist, I find more and more critters in the immediate vicinity. Growing up, it seemed like the only birds were sparrows, the only snakes were rattlers, and the only things growing outside of town were weeds.

As a matter of fact, as I have become more sensitized to what is around me, I have often pulled to the side of the road to take a picture. I feel sure that as time goes by, I will find more and more interesting things right here in Midland County. I try to keep my camera with me, but sometimes I just forget. I've earned that right, along with the gray hair. But I do my best to remember.

And then there was that time I saw a mountain lion on top of a neighbor's house. Another story for another time!

A Tale of Six Sisters

Ten years ago, the Cherry tribe purchased twenty acres east of Greenwood, Texas. Greenwood, for those of you who don't know, is not a town. Greenwood is a school district east of Midland, Tx. It began as a small farming community, and the school district, which employs my wife, was named for two Baptist preachers, the Rev. Green and the Rev. Wood. There is a town in northeast Texas, between Sulphur Springs and Mt. Pleasant, named Greenwood. And, the State of Texas is narrow minded about having two towns of the same name.

Since we can't create a new town named Greenwood, everyone has been satisfied to leave it as a school district. This is probably a good thing for those of us who live out here. Although, when I first moved to Greenwood in 1990, I participated in the debate about who is the Mayor of Greenwood. Some said the school Superintendent, some, the High School Principal, and still others, the Chief of the Volunteer Fire Department, but I leaned towards the Barber. Charles was there everyday, and his shop was the center of local gossip and rumor. If one wanted to know what was going on in Greenwood, a haircut would satisfy curiosity. I miss Charles.

The Cherry tribe began looking for a five acre plot to call our own, but we just couldn't find five acres for sale with a reasonable expectation of water. We consulted our friend, Winn King (King Windmills), who had a good idea about where one might find water and where water might be scarce. After much searching and viewing of local real estate listings, we resorted to wandering around. One afternoon, we turned down a random road and found a "For Sale by Owner" sign.

This old and forlorn sign simply listed a phone number. We called and ended up buying twenty acres instead of the five we had originally planned. Now, years later, we wish we had bought forty acres instead of twenty. We wanted seclusion with a buffer from nearby neighbors. Our closest neighbor is probably 100 yards away, and we recognize that while they are certainly nice neighbors, it is still too close!

The twenty acres was nothing more than a mesquite pasture, with a dirt county road on one side and an oil field lease road leading up to the other side. We hired Bobby Stalvey to cut a short road connecting to the lease road and clear a small area where we could invite a mobile home to temporarily sustain the tribe until a more suitable house could be acquired. I bought the ugliest, oldest, smallest, most uncomfortable mobile home I could find. The idea was to encourage us to move forward and get out of the derelict. I was afraid that if we bought a nice new mobile home, we might just get comfortable and become "trailer trash."

So, there we were. The derelict only had two bedrooms, requiring the Cherry girls to double up, and when the wind blew and dust storms visited, we sometimes needed a shovel to clean out the sand. The "Blessed Mother Cherry," (so named by Brother Amos) took to wetting paper towels and stuffing them around the window casings to slow down the fine powder that seeped in during dust storms. After a number of months, during which we all suffered in relative silence, I relented and a new mobile home was purchased. Dispositions immediately improved, and life was once again bearable.

By now you are probably wondering what all of this has to do with "A Tale of Six Sisters?" There are two considerations for those of us who live in a mesquite pasture. The first problem is the wind. It blows. And blows. And blows. Having spent most of my life living in towns where the wind is somewhat lifted by buildings and carefully planted trees, I had observed that out on the prairie and around cotton farmers' homes, everyone planted wind breaks. Additionally, as we used an oil field lease road to gain access to our property in the beginning, it also meant that there was oil field equipment in plain view from our new home.

So, I began to research wind breaks. I wanted something that grew fast and tall. Something to hide the nearby tank battery and pump jack. Something to provide a little privacy from the oil field workers who periodically visited the location. And, I encountered "Austrees." The Colorado firm offering these hybrids from New Zealand claimed rapid growth and long life for a variety of trees. Pictures showed lush windbreaks that towered over their smiling owners. Yep, I bit.

I ended up buying three varieties to help solve my problem. One of the varieties is a tree similar to a poplar but named for its leaf color. New leafs bud out with a purple tinge before turning full green. We planted six "Rapid Merlots," and they became known around the Cherry compound as "The Sisters." Six silent sentinels standing shoulder to shoulder in a long line. One of the Sisters became a twin with two towering trunks. I later realized they were Siamese twins joined at the foot, which caused me to vacillate between six or seven Sisters.

The Blessed Mother Cherry named them the Sisters after noticing that when the wind blew, the Sisters whispered to one another in a language all their own. They whispered their secrets to one another as sisters will, chattering back and forth. It was a pleasant sound.

The Sisters served admirably in the summertime, blocking the unseemly view of oilfield tanks and equipment. I secretly hoped that the oil would play out and the tanks would eventually be removed, but in the meantime, the Sisters satisfied my eye as I gazed in their direction.

In the winter time, the Sisters would disrobe, dropping their ample leaves, standing brazenly naked to endure the mild but sometimes cold winter days and nights. And, absent their green robes, the oilfield equipment dominated the view beyond. I decided, two years ago, to plant a row of Brothers behind the Sisters. Afghan pines would fill-in the winter background and hide the unpleasant view, to be replaced by the finery of the Sisters during the summer; an alternating view of green leaves and green pine needles.

And then came Afghanistan. I don't know the conclusion that might be drawn from planting Afghan pines and my year in Afghanistan, working with the Afghan National Police, but suffice to say that somehow Afghanistan hurt the Sisters. While I had instructed the Blessed Mother Cherry on the care and feeding of all the trees around the Cherry compound, something went wrong for the Sisters.

Almost immediately after my return for a much needed leave in March of 2009, my wife warned me that the Sisters were in trouble. They had died from the top down during the winter. One had completely passed-on, while four (or five, depending on how one counts the Siamese twins) had died back to within about five feet of the ground. One had endured as if nothing were going on, and one had only died near the top. The Sisters had become less.

A few weeks ago, with the aid of my long-time friend and attorney, Mark Tatum, we hitched up the dead sister to my Nissan pickup and pulled her down. Dang. Yesterday, I finally confronted the rest of the chore before me. The suffering Sisters had to give up their dead trunks. I knew the dead wood had to be removed before the West Texas wind did it for me. Additionally, the Sisters looked horrible with their green bases and dead bodies.

It felt like I was giving them lobotomies or serious amputations as Sarah and I removed the dead trunks. The view has been altered. At least in winter, they looked almost normal. However, when the great dove migration began last Fall, tens of doves would flock to the Sisters, bending the dead limbs until the weight of the doves would snap the overcrowded perch. Snap! Startled doves, in momentary free-fall until their wings caught air, would dash about until they found new perches, only to be shortly followed by another snap! And, so it was, the white-winged dove began the pruning process which let me know what had to be done. And, yesterday we owned up to our responsibility, and all but two of the remaining Sisters grew much, much shorter.

The Afghans behind them aren't tall enough to fill the void yet, and it will be a few years before they can take over the job. I don't know what the Sisters will look like this Spring, or whether or not they will grow new trunks to replace what was lost. Eventually, the job will fall to the Brothers, full-time.

Until then, I will morn the Sisters. They were like old friends, standing over our small corner of paradise. They had become an icon of the Cherry compound, helping to define our separation from the mesquite pasture and the oilfield.

This morning, over coffee, the Blessed Mother Cherry cried over our loss. "Haven't you ever cried over the loss of a tree?" she asked. I guess I haven't. I'm a cave man, after all. But that doesn't mean I don't feel the loss. That doesn't mean that I don't grieve and morn them. I do. I cared for the Sisters.