A new family bought the former B&B near the entrance to our neighborhood. When they bought it, they probably thought they were getting waterfront property, as it sits just above the dam that used to supply that wonderful cascading water that I could hear all the way up here, on the side of our hill. Haven't heard it in over a year now.
Down by the low water crossing they have a huge old oak tree, whose branches dip all the way down to the ground, forming a shady bower over the creek. Every time I passed it on a hot, sunny day, I wished I were a kid again, so I could build a secret hide-away beneath those cool branches. I think my neighbors must have had similar thoughts. It started with a simple concrete bench on the limestone ledge next to the creek. Then there was a hammock chair hanging from the tree limb. Next I noticed what looked like a yoga mat, and thought "Yes! What a perfect place to meditate." Gradually, as the water disappeared, more and more things were added, until the entire creek bed was taken over. What they ended up with was a shady outdoor living area, complete with chandelier and papasan chairs. This weekend I realized they must have had a big party down there, for there were even barbecue pits set up. Now that's what I call "making lemonade!"
I can't help but wonder though, if they have lived in the Hill Country long enough to realize just how fast a gully washer can come through there, despite this incessant drought. They'd have to do some major skee-dadling to rescue everything. Oh well, none of it is extremely valuable. The barbecue pits were put away after the party, and they probably figure the rest would be a fair trade-off, if it meant getting their creek back. After all, these are people who know how to make a mighty fine lemonade, when handed some lemons.
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