In less than 30 minutes I’d left the bustle and fast traffic of Austin—Texas’s dynamic state capital—far behind and entered a wide-open, undulating landscape embroidered with the pink of blossoming peach orchards. A turnoff on a county road at the tiny town of Dripping Springs led to a rolling, curving ride through charming countryside, where, although it was only early March, bright clumps of daffodils and wild redbud trees hinted at the spectacular show of wildflowers that would erupt during April, May and June. These same fields and roadsides will then be covered with far more than their share of the 5,000 wildflowers found in the Lone Star State: bluebonnets (the state flower), cherry red Drummond’s phlox, bright yellow Engelmann’s daisies, fiery Indian blankets, pink evening primroses, black-eyed Susans and purplish lemon mint, to name just a few. But in March, as throughout the winter, the most prominent color was that of dark green huddles of fat cedars thickly dotting the rocky, dun-colored hillsides. Old limestone ranch houses squatted long and low understands of live oaks, which were just starting to shed last year’s still-green leaves in preparation for a burst of new foliage when spring rains would green the entire landscape.
Rounding a curve, I had my first encounter with a resident of this unique and much-loved section of the Texas Hills: a man getting out of a pickup truck to check his mailbox. He gave me a friendly smile and a wave. I suddenly felt right at home—and that, to me, proved to be the primary attraction of the Texas Hills: a sense of being welcomed.
Even though this article was written in 1988, some things never change. The Texas Hill Country moves a little slower than the rest of the world, and that is part of what we love about it.
“This article was originally published in Mother Earth News July/August 1988 Issue”
Pacher, Sara. “Rural Life in the Texas Hills.” Mother Earth News, July 1988, www.motherearthnews.com/nature-and-environment/texas-hills-zmaz88jazgoe.