Earth, Wind & Fire -- Texas Style

Readers might think this is a blog about the popular music group from the '70s. They are on tour and perform in Austin on June 11, yes. Earth, Wind & Fire appear at ACL LIVE! at the Moody Theater and tickets are still available.

That said, Texas has had its own version of earth, wind and fire the past few weeks: dry earth, high winds and wildfires that have destroyed homes and changed people's lives. Persons carrying lighted matches are forbidden. Campfires are prohibited. Fireworks are banned. Temperatures in Austin have been in the low 90s -- which is great for those who like summer in April -- but not good for the crops, lawns and blooming flowers.

As Texans look for relief from the heat and pray for rain -- Gov. Rick Perry formally asked for three days of prayer from citizens during Easter weekend -- other states are drowned in downpours. Hurricane experts predict an above-average Atlantic basin hurricane season, statistics calling for 16 named storms between June 1 and Nov. 30 this year.

Where's the balance? I ask. But there's a bright spot here and I've set the scene to simply focus on one humorous image that made me smile on my drive to work this morning.

I hurriedly drove Interstate 35 south into Downtown Austin and manuevered behind a truck to get nearer my exit. Though I hate trailing behind vehicles I can't see around, this one carried unique cargo. The sign on its rear end read "Hurricane resistant skylights."

Oh, really? I asked myself. "Hurricane resistant skylights?" Seriously?

I tried to picture it: Ike and Rita were both pretty ferocius, I recalled. Devastated cities. Destroyed homes as if they were made of straw like those in "The 3 Little Pigs." The hurricanes' power toppled towers, stranded people on rooftops.

"But, Mrs. Smith, if you'd only have purchased our 'hurricane resistant skylights' you wouldn't have all this water in your house."

No matter that Mrs. Smith's siding is gone and the grand staircase to the second floor lies across the road in her neighbor's yard!

I shook my head as I passed the truck, glancing at the flats of windows latched onto its bed. Not hardly, I thought, and laughed.

I suspect after a hurricane passes through, that new hole in Mrs. Smith's roof, compliments of Mother Nature, is more skylight than she might care to see.

Now the only question I have is, what was a truck with "hurricane resistant skylights" doing in Austin, Texas? We've not had a drop of rain -- let alone, a hurricane -- in months.

Or maybe that's where the company has success selling the products, in a place where there are no downpours of any kind -- on the dusty hills and parched plains of Texas.

Look at it this way: the promise of a "hurricane" might sound pretty good about now, to those of us wishing the skies would -- just for a day or two -- swell with thunderheads and pour forth roaring, cool liquid.

It would be an answer to prayers, washing away the high fire danger, filling lakes and streams to normal levels -- and then we can get on with life: pondering how to manage our frizzy hair because it's so darn humid here!

Hot Diggity Dog

It's all in the title. I have a dog that digs. And digs.

She digs up my perennials. She tries to dig up the bushes. She's dug numerous holes in the backyard.

My life was content -- I had a lovable, trained Golden Retriever. Levi is a neutered male, almost 4. I thought he needed a playmate, and a co-worker convinced me to look to a local animal shelter.

Then I adopted Bella. That's the name I gave her when I brought her home from the rescue place on New Year's Day. She had been called Molly Ringwald. (I wonder if the actress knows she's had a dog named after her?)

It took Bella -- a black Labrador Retriever / Bassett Hound mix -- just 3 days to learn her new name. I figured I'd gotten a pretty smart dog! She's just a year old now, 3 months later. She and Levi played well together. She is cute, with the look of the black lab half -- except shorter and longer, like the hound side.

First it was one deep hole, in the middle of the best grassy spot in my spacious backyard. Then 2 more, smaller holes this time. I took to filling them in with dirt -- but she was at it again the next day, redigging in the same spot. I pulled out my hair (figuratively) while she pulled out the grass roots by the handful...uh, pawful...energetic and determined to defeat me in my repair work.

So I sought advice. "Use cayenne pepper." "Try setting mouse traps next to the plants." "Put her dog poop around the area where you don't want her to dig."

I tried them all.

The pepper worked for a few hours -- until she seemed to develop a taste for it.

Twenty mouse traps later, some plants were safe; others Bella just bullied her way through and bypassed them.

I dreaded the third suggestion, yet had no choice but to scoop the poop and pile it in rings around the posies. I wondered if next my flowers would rebel and I'd have angry blooms on my hands, along with the odor of dried dog dung in the air.

So far, the poop seems to have done the trick in keeping her from most flowers, but the open yard is still fair game. I have to watch where I step, as if land mines await, not to twist an ankle in her wake.

There was a bright spot in all this, however. One Saturday, I sat soaking in my hot tub after a day of gardening, and as the sun set behind her, darling Bella calmly walked over to the very first large hole she'd dug -- nestled herself deep in the cool ground, settled her head on the lawn's edge, her brown eyes smiling at me. She too was relaxing.

I laughed out loud, never imagining the hole's purpose was so she could be snug in her own way, being brought into a new home, with a new dog friend and a new owner -- adjusting to a new approach to life. I smiled back and enjoyed the moment.

Still, each daily deposit of turd is used to dissuade her from digging. So far, she's winning because she and Levi have the yard to themselves all day while I'm at work to do as they please.

That is, until last week. I've now had a dog run put in -- she can dig all she wants behind the chain link fence, try as she might to get out. My flowers and lawn gratefully recover from her wounds.

I hope that, by July, things will be coming up roses again.