West Texas Wind And Water

Common Sense Commentary: Born on the Double Heart Ranch, near Sweetwater Texas, I roamed those West Texas hills and ranches throughout my boyhood. Jim Powell and I often rode his donkey, Old Blue, all over that dry, hot, country. Old Blue never did care much for it. He would regularly head for a mesquite tree and scrap us off with a low hanging, thorny limb. We spent half our time sitting on the ground in a patch of grass burrs. After trying to ride Old Blue, or just wandering through the tumble weeds,cactus and mesquite for a few hours, on a hot summer day, we would head for the nearest windmill, if we could see one. If not, we would just drink and swim in a cow pond called a "tank" in Texas. The water was brown and tasted funny but the cows were standing in it drinking (etc.), so we knew it must be okay to drink.

The wind was nearly always blowing in West Texas and everybody out in that country had a windmill. Ranchers had quite a few, for their cattle, out in the middle of nowhere. Jim and I, hot, tired and dusty, could see those windmills for miles, usually, and knew, like an oasis in the desert, we would find cool, clear water there. "Cool Clear Water," by the Sons Of The Pioneers, is still my favorite song. Unless you have been there, you can't know how .... almost heavenly that was to Jim and me. The sun was radiating down on our whole world, the hot wind was blowing from the desert southwest with the smell of desert blooms, the blades were spinning atop the windmill tower, there was shade by the big metal water tank and cool, clear water, from deep in the earth, was pouring out a metal pipe.

Shade, in such a dry climate, turns the wind into nature's air conditioning. In zero humidity, hot wind across a sweaty body in the shade, is very cool. I often go there to relive those sweet memories but its never quite the same. However, I did get to lead Jim to our Lord just before he died a few years ago. Wind is a blessing to a desert dweller. Even as the mighty wind filled the place where the Apostles awaited the coming of God's Spirit to empower them for service, and as the trade winds filled the windless sails of ocean ships of old, and drove them powerfully to their destinations, the wind was a blessing. That same restless, mysterious wind, when I was a boy, whispered through the mesquite trees of West Texas, over the hot stony places where desert fragrance lingered, to bless adventurous little boys, cowboys, and windmills. Lord, may other little boys and girls have such precious memories.

Pass It On. RB