Georgia
Labriego
Oxford
Joie de Vivre
Obligations
Obiter dictum
Windsor
Purple Sage
Matthew 11:30
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
"And then, at the lower levels, we came upon the plant that affected me most deeply; I saw it first alongside the road, a low gray woody bush with tiny five-thorned leaves. I took it for a weed, but Berninghaus said: ‘Let’s stop and inspect it.’ He broke off a branch to show that the interior wood was one of the most vivid yellows in nature: ‘The Indians prized it for coloring their blankets,’ and I supposed that this completed the story, but he continued: ‘It’s one of our best shrubs, quite precious, really.’
‘What’s it called?’ I asked, and he said: ‘Cenizo, but some spell it with a final a. Its more effective name, Barometer Bush.’
‘Why?’
‘If we pass a spot that’s had some recent rain, you’ll see why,’ and before long we came to such a place, and there a stretch of cenizo had burst into soft, gentle gray-purple flowers. They were like miniature lilacs beside some Illinois farmhouse, or dusty asters in a Pennsylvania field; they spoke of home and evening firesides. As I looked down at them, imagining how joyously they must have been greeted by Indians who sought their brilliant dye, I felt as if Texas had somehow reached out to embrace me, to protect me from the barrenness of this western land, and I could understand how Berninghaus had come here fresh from his doctorate at Chicago and decided after one week that this would be his home for life. We would have known only half of Texas had we missed Alpine.
Just as I was beginning to feel sentimental about the plant, Berninghaus threw in one of those obiter dicta which can make travel with a scholar so rewarding: ‘This is the flower, of course, which made Zane Grey immortal. But imagine how flat his title would have sounded had he called the plant by its proper Spanish name, Riders of the Purple Cenizo.’ "~~~James A. Michener: TEXAS. Ch.8 The Ranger.
‘What’s it called?’ I asked, and he said: ‘Cenizo, but some spell it with a final a. Its more effective name, Barometer Bush.’
‘Why?’
‘If we pass a spot that’s had some recent rain, you’ll see why,’ and before long we came to such a place, and there a stretch of cenizo had burst into soft, gentle gray-purple flowers. They were like miniature lilacs beside some Illinois farmhouse, or dusty asters in a Pennsylvania field; they spoke of home and evening firesides. As I looked down at them, imagining how joyously they must have been greeted by Indians who sought their brilliant dye, I felt as if Texas had somehow reached out to embrace me, to protect me from the barrenness of this western land, and I could understand how Berninghaus had come here fresh from his doctorate at Chicago and decided after one week that this would be his home for life. We would have known only half of Texas had we missed Alpine.
Just as I was beginning to feel sentimental about the plant, Berninghaus threw in one of those obiter dicta which can make travel with a scholar so rewarding: ‘This is the flower, of course, which made Zane Grey immortal. But imagine how flat his title would have sounded had he called the plant by its proper Spanish name, Riders of the Purple Cenizo.’ "~~~James A. Michener: TEXAS. Ch.8 The Ranger.
Chess: "Labriego" "Georgia" "Oxford" "Joie de Vivre" "Obligations" "Obiter dictum""Windsor" "Purple Sage"
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