Busted Pie: The bluebonnet queen

Last Sunday afternoon, during Eliza's nap I decided to repaint the chandelier (again). Sure, says the Man Who Puts Up With Me, I'll take your chandelier down and then I'll watch some basketball while you work on it outside. And then...and then...we had one of those moments where you don't know whether to laugh or cry. You know those? Like when you hit your funny bone and it leaves you unable to speak for a few minutes. Well, this was one of those. It was a chandelier crashing down from the ceiling, squarely onto the Waterford vase, squarely into the newly painted dining table kind of moments. My beautiful vase, a wedding gift, shatters into one million tiny pieces, all over the dining room. The table I worked on for two months has a small but unfixable gash in its center. Baby wakes up 15 minutes into her nap. Haha/waahhhh.

Rather than dwell on the destruction, which if I'm being honest, left me a bit heartbroken and unable to speak, we cleaned up the mess, scooped up the now awake baby and headed out for a Sunday country drive. It's an unspoken, easy ritual we've perfected over many Sundays of hill country drives. Old country music playing in the background. Meandering off onto winding dirt roads that lead to nowhere. An antique store stop or two. And beef jerky. Somewhere along the way, there's always a stop for local beef jerky. Beef jerky, you see, is the perfect companion to a Sunday afternoon drive.

I can't really explain why, but a hill country drive is good for the soul. Especially in the springtime, but really any time of year will do.

On this particular Sunday, we did have one purpose: we were hunting the perfect bluebonnet patch. Thanks to all the glorious rain we've had this year, spring unfurled a dazzling crop of these beauties.

There are few symbols so sacred to a Texan than that of the iconic bluebonnet. We grow up reading about a little orphan Comanche girl who selflessly sacrifices her cherished doll to save her tribe, which was perishing in a famine. Her sacrifice brings much-needed rain to end the famine, and when she wakes up, the Texas hills are blanketed in bluebonnets as a symbol of forgiveness from the spirits.

Our area has had its share of hard times too, recently. Last year's drought sparked devastating wildfires, which, frighteningly, could crop up anywhere at any time. I do hope this bountiful crop marks an end to our drought as well.

Baby's first bluebonnet pictures are the equivalent of being baptized a Central Texan.

Eliza can tell you first-hand that there's nothing quite like being woken from a Sunday snooze, pulled from your carseat and plopped in a field of fragrant flowers!

I was trying to wait until the last possible minute, but "golden light" these days is really not until the 6-7 timeframe, and we had to get home for supper - lest our bluebonnet queen melt down in protest. Thus, I really had to fiddle with these, not only because they are CRAZY bright, but especially because they are also backlit. Argh. Wouldn't have wanted the highway in the background!