So long...

After two months of kicking around north Dallas, we left around the first of August for a beach adventure.  So long, Dallas.  We're going home...When we moved from Plano to Corpus Christi (N. Padre Island, specifically) in 2008, our plan was to live at the beach and work in DFW.  After all, we had built a solid clientele who eagerly referred us, and we had enough of a workload to support our family year-round.  Then the recession or contraction or whatever you want to call it that bombarded the global economy that fall spoiled our plans a bit.  Design work was scarce but we still found enough to eke out a very modest existence.  2009 was even worse, then 2010 showed signs of recovering.  Already we were preparing to become 100% mobile, so when 2011 began with a kaboom of business activity, we were thrilled that our original plan to be beachside most of the time with brief business trips to DFW was getting back on track.

Then came The Crash.  But also a windfall of design projects.  We were implanted into the vortex of a DFW landscape maelstrom for five months.  FIVE MONTHS.  That's almost 1/2 a year without seeing, even smelling, the beach.  To say that we "missed" it is an understatement.  As we drove over the JFK Causeway that first time in such a very long time I broke down.  Yes, blubbered.  It wasn't just because I yearned for the beach, our beach.  It was an emotional release of all the pent-up tension I had stored for nearly half a year...the crash...rebuilding our trailer...chronic downsizing...a lot of changes professionally and personally...reconnecting with loved ones...losing touch with others...so much I can't even begin to describe here.  That first look in a very long time of a place I once loved stirred many emotions and allowed me to let go, finally.

We picked up mail and dinner, and then hurried out to Padre Balli Park to set up camp.  Within moments I kicked what felt like a rock and felt a sudden explosion of pain in my foot.  I continued with our set-up procedures until I noticed moisture on my toes.  Blood.  A.lot.of.it.  A huge gash on my big toe.  When I looked more closely I noticed that about half of the top of my toe had been cut deeply and peeled back, the layers underneath pushed up and over the gash.  Twisted, bloody, packed with sand: yep, it was disgusting.  And throbbing.  I thought I might need stitches...I cleaned my wound and wrapped my foot, then returned to the spot where I had unfortunately collided with the rock.  I found it...it wasn't a rock at all.  It was a huge glob of molten glass.  Some fools had thrown a bunch of beer bottles on their campfire...I was furious because this kind of thing happens much too often.  Immediately I began questioning why I even come to this stupid place, this lovely beach that a bunch of idiots camp on and melt glass and drive like maniacs, "cutting doughnuts" and plowing through fragile dune ecosystems.  This lovely, wild place that is being ruined by people who just don't get it.  My pain subsided, eventually, and my mind calmed.  Waves whispered my name.  Pelicans, oystercatchers, willets: so many bird species welcomed me back I forgot my frustration...and pain.  That's part of why I love North Padre Island.  It is always an odd culmination of pristine nature and reckless humans.  Somehow nature always prevails so I probably should not fret so much.  Just enjoy the beauty...

A few days went by and we were enjoying all the best that beach has to offer.  Birds, fish, calm and clear water.  Campfires and "study tank".  Our last day there, little girl and doggie went inside the trailer to cool off in the generator-powered air conditioning.  They even napped!  David and I hung out in the sun and waded into the water now and then to cool off.  But of course it being our last day on the beach, we must have been feeling a little invincible because neither of us applied sunblock.  Nice move.  By the end of the day, we both had a nasty sunburn.  Awesome ending to our beach adventure.  The beach mishaps behind us, we looked ahead to refreshing cold showers and shade trees in Goose Island State Park.

Well, we did get a break from the sun underneath all those trees.  But the water was HOT HOT HOT.  All day, anytime of day.  Our sunburns blistered and bubbled, and itched and peeled.  Sage, fortunately, had escaped the wrath of the mid-day sun on the beach.  David and I were miserable!  Argh!  We did have fun visiting the Big Tree and playing in the park, though, which erased any trace of misery brought on by the 'burn.  After about a week we moved on to our next location: Copano Bay.

Recently I've started calling it our Rockport Retreat.  There we set up camp under a canopy of windswept Live Oaks underplanted with American Beautyberry, Turk's Cap, Red Bay, and more native plant species.  Hummingbirds and butterflies hung around the vegetation like ornaments on a Christmas tree.  Mockingbirds, cardinals and some other smaller birds I have yet to identify tweeted and flitted about all day and much of the evening.  Other wildlife stopped by, too.  Raccoons rummaged through our trash, snakes slithered past, deer leaped and frolicked.  Any time of day, Nature's soundtrack played on and on...Dolphins greeted us every morning and evening.  Nature dazzled us at sunset with vibrant colors splattered in random patterns across the sky.  I love that place; I can't wait to go back.

Just before we left the Texas Coast -- we are back in DFW now for a presentation to the Dallas Organic Garden Club -- we visited our storage room on North Padre Island.  Talk about peering into a time capsule!  It seems so long ago that we were packing our belongings into bins and placing them into that room.  In a couple of weeks, we will have been on this mobile odyssey for a full year.  Incredible.  I remember moving, and I remember the excitement we all felt about the adventures we would share.  But I don't remember much of what is in that room.  David pulled down an unmarked bin (at first we were meticulous packers and labelers but by the end of the moving process we were just slinging stuff around) and popped off the lid.  Inside were some of Sage's stuffed animals.  She just stared, vaguely recognizing them.  The faraway look in her eyes rocked me.  In one short year she has changed dramatically: she began the journey in diapers and Mommy feeding and dressing her.  Now, she is fully potty-trained, feeds herself with utensils (even knows what a spork is!) and dresses/undresses herself effortlessly.  I watched her as she picked through the bin of forgotten toys.  Memories rushed back, punctuated with Ohs and Look-at-this,-Mommys.  The past year has been filled to the point of overflowing with moments, profound moments.  Adventures.  Chapters in this mobile odyssey.  For David and me, over-40-somethings, the life we have packed into that storage room on North Padre Island seems so long ago.  For Sage, that life disappeared a year ago, equal to one-third of her life.  None of us felt saddened by this experience; we were bewildered.  These are our things but strangely they seem to belong to someone else.  We have scaled back our day-to-day operations to favor simplicity over convenience, and the thought of returning to a life that would reincorporate those belongings causes me alarm.   That's right, alarm.  I still have much to do on this journey; I'm not ready to quit yet.  There will be an endpoint but I don't want to pin it on a map or write it on an agenda.  I don't want to know where or when it will arrive, exactly.  Part of the beauty of this journey is that, outside of meetings and presentations, we do not follow a structured schedule.  We do not wander aimlessly, pointlessly.  But we do allow for spontaneity to savor the varied textures and flavors of life's feast.

Austin, Texas...Y'all.

If you listened to radio station KLBJ in Austin in the mid-90s, you might recall one of the station's promotional ads.  Pure simple brilliance: call letters and numeric location on the dial, followed by "Austin...Texas...Y'all."  Whether you are a native Texan or a longtime resident-graduated-to-transplant, these simple words can evoke stirring sentiments.  An identity that only a Texan (even a "naturalized" species like myself) can fully understand and that nobody can really explain.  I mean, most natives I know consider themselves Texans first, Americans second.  Adding the "y'all" suffix seems to say, "Yep, we invented that word.  And are DAMN PROUD OF IT, y'all."  You Texans know what I'm talking about.  You who know Texans probably also know what I'm talking about.  And if you do not fall within either category...then I'm fixin' to feel sorry for y'all.

And PS, no self-respecting Texan would use the term "coined".  The right way to say it in Texas is "invented", especially when you're talking to "Yankees" (aka anyone from north of the Red River.)  Amongst ourselves we speak properly, sometimes even with a British accent.  But when conversing with you...er, I mean, Y'ALL...we definitely play into every single stereotype you believe about us.  That's just part of our charm.

Yes I am on a pro-Texas campaign after spending a few days in our state's capitol (which, FYI, is taller than our nation's capitol.)  Finally we paid a long-overdue visit to our friends Dusty and Melanie.  Initially they were clients and eventually became friends with whom we could muse about native plants and restoring Texas and all that sustainable landscaping stuff we blah-blah-blah about.  This visit, we were also able to share with them our vision for living in a more sustainable manner.  We also had the pleasure of getting to know some of their neighbors in one of the finest examples of New Urbanism in Texas.  (Something we know a little about, having lived and worked in the Seaside, Florida, area, the showpiece of the New Urbanism movement.)  Several of their fellow Mueller residents stopped by for one of two informal discussions about our business, mission, services, etc.  Love the place, and we are so grateful for meeting new friends.

The original event that brought us to Austin last week was the Keep Texas Beautiful conference.  One of our other clients-now-friends, Aimee Bissett of Keep Denton Beautiful, invited me to co-present with her about using native plants in community beautification efforts.  This was a perfect partnership, because Aimee speaks from a programming and coordinating perspective -- very useful for affiliates in attendance since most of them serve in these roles.  My part of the presentation addresses the importance of the community projects in our overall mission to restore Texas.  I revealed the processes within the designers' minds -- where we find inspiration, why we select specific plant species and elements, and what motivates us to do what we do.  While Aimee explained step-by-step how to implement and maintain these types of projects, I layed out in some detail why -- the ecological and economical justification -- using native plants instead of traditional landscape plants is always preferred.  I won't get into that here but our mission is guided by a deeply held philosophy that embodies our beliefs regarding Nature, human resources and behaviors, and of course identity.  Other topics, too, but all of this is too heavy for this post.

Anyway, Aimee and I have very different speaking styles but share much in terms of environmental convictions, recreational activities, even superb taste in music.  (hee hee.)  Based on the responses from our audience, I'd say we did a pretty darn good job rousing the troops.  And we really had a tough task, because we followed Chet Garner of PBS' The Daytripper.  He presented his travel exploits in a humorous way while capturing the essence of being a Texan.  As he said, each episode addresses the culture, nature and food of various places around Texas.  Every city or town is toured within a single day trip.  He is entertaining, no doubt, but Chet is also doing a lot for restoring pride in Texas' sometimes overlooked or forgotten gems.  It's a big state with a lot of interesting places and people to see...come for a visit.  Y'all.

Giving More than Thanks

For six weeks after The Crash, we squatted with family in their new home.  Unless you have experienced an event that completely wipes out your home, vehicle, office and most of your personal belongings, you probably cannot comprehend all that we dealt with those first six weeks.  Most of the damaged items were just stuff to me -- things to which I had no real emotional ties.  In fact, I only lamented the loss of Sage's BOB stroller and the trailer.  Fortunately we were able to salvage the trailer, at least.  Sentimental piece.

But the rest of the stuff didn't bother me.  Losing the truck and El Valor were not that stressful, really, except that we found ourselves without a vehicle and home and no time to replace them.  Most of the time we maintained a positive attitude and counted our blessings that nobody was hurt nor was our livelihood destroyed.  Still, there were days when we were uncertain about our future.  Not just as a mobile family and business, but a family in general.  There were times we considered ending our odyssey and renting a place temporarily while we reconfigured our life.  We shopped online for truck and camper combos, then motorhomes, then vans.  Nothing within our budget seemed to improve upon our previous rig.  Eventually we decided to take our old beach truck out of storage and rebuild the tattered trailer.  These would hold us over until summer.  Well, summer is here, and still we have no time to upgrade our rig.  Upgrade is now officially tabled until fall, or winter.  Or perhaps indefinitely!  At the moment it doesn't seem as important.

When the trailer was finally ready to roll we moved it to Cedar Hill State Park.  After six weeks there, we feel part of the park family.  New friends.  Duck Pond hiking tour.  Full moon tour of the Penn family farm.  Hiking to the remnant prairie to shoot perennials and grasses dancing in the setting sun.  Innumerable sightings of Eastern Bluebird, Painted Bunting and an array of butterfly species.  Treacherous storms.  Rain, rain; mud everywhere and inside everything.  Sunsets that remind us we are alive!  Nature reminding us why we do what we do.  Yes, our six-week camping trip healed our hearts after our catastrophic moment.

Looking back over the past three months, I feel proud.  Despite losing nearly everything, despite scary moments worrying about my dad's health, my computer crashing, more truck problems, changes to business, and downsizing our home, again; we managed to survive.  Maybe not at first, but with each setback we found opportunities to streamline or otherwise improve our lifestyle or livelihood.  To be sure, these three months took an emotional toll on all of us.  Sage ramped up the tantrums (because she is three AND picking up on our soaring stress levels.)  David and I couldn't be in the same room without erupting into an argument.  I called my mom on more than one occasion just to cry and have somebody reassure me that everything would be just fine.  Oh, and these are just the highlights.  Ha ha ha.  While in the throes of this life-changing event, I could not speak or write about my feelings.  Too heavy.  Now, though, I am able to put the pain in its proper place...in the past.  I've moved on...we all have.

So, moving on...we left Cedar Hill to stay with family again.  This time, to express our gratitude, to give more than thanks.  This time, we are working hard to landscape their backyard that was a gigantic blank slate.  Bermuda turf has been eliminated and replaced with sweeping, curvaceous beds brimming with perennials, such as Beebalm, Four Nerve Daisy, Blackfoot Daisy, Purple Skullcap, Snake Herb, and Mealy Cup Sage; Gamagrass, Indiangrass and Buffalograss turf; and trees, such as Cedar Elm, Possumhaw, Mexican Plum, and Roughleaf Dogwood.  And more.  No matter the heat, and the fact that I haven't installed a landscape in many years: this project is fun and truly rewarding.  When it is finished, we will leave once again.  Time to continue our journey...

What's in a name?

I started this blog to document our adventures along this mobile odyssey.  I named it "4x4elvalor" because a) it rhymes and might be easy to remember and b) our vehicle-of-choice could take us to remote places (hence the "4x4" part) and with bravery (umm, yes.  That's where "el valor" comes in.)  Sadly, neither the 4-wheel-drive diesel truck we thought was (almost) invincible nor the slide-in truck camper, aka El Valor, survived our frightening crash in Austin this past March.  Our trailer -- that rolled and looked the worst post-accident -- actually was salvageable and has become our tiny-home-on-wheels.  Digressing here...surprising, eh?  (Insert sounds of dripping sarcasm.)

Our blog no longer represents our current means of living.working.traveling together.  It is now a tribute to our fallen friends, Daisy the Diesel 4x4 and El Valor the camper.  Our odyssey will continue, and our story will remain here, under 4x4elvalor, despite losing this blog's namesake.

Besides, where's the sexiness in a blog dubbed "truckwagon" or, simply, "trailer"?  Or any of the other names we have attempted to bestow on our beloved tiny home?  A rose is a rose is a rose...

Our Island

Drive leading to our camp on the 'island'

I have my own island. Peninsula, rather. And really it is "mine" only for the next few days. For now, though, my mobile office/home is perched in the center of a cul-de-sac of land, a spit that forms the driveway leading up to it. Our view of Copano Bay is almost 360 degrees of waterfront. In the near distance is the fishing bridge and beyond that the bridge connecting to Lamar and Holiday Beach. Apart from whispers of traffic and small aircraft overhead, I am serenaded by fish jumping and birds chirping. Sounds of heavy machinery -- of work getting done -- are there, too. They blend with rather than blast through the music of Nature. Trucks and cars hum across the bridge, now. Equipment is silent for the moment. Great Blue Heron squawked directly above me, flying low. Sage is finally napping after refusing to sleep for several days. I'm recalibrating.

Salute to Sausage!

Last weekend after leaving Cedar Hill we drove to New Braunfels. Our friends, Laura and Daryl, invited us to plug in the rig, then join them at Wurstfest. The 10-day salute to sausage! They ended up going without us because we had a meeting Saturday morning and left later than planned. Then, just as the late-autumn sunset enveloped us like a grey sweater, the lights on the trailer malfunctioned. For 2 teeth-grinding hours I assisted David and burned some of Sage and Folsom's energy. He unspliced and respliced the wires more times than I would have patience to do. In the end, it was the bulbs; they had become loose. Apparently that can happen after faceplanting...Finally we arrived at The Manor long after they had wrapped their night of sausage and Shiner. Still, we spent some time gabbing and catching up. We have an open invite which we will gladly use...and we did make it to Wurstfest, after all, the next day. Festive!

Thank you thank you thank you, Laura and Daryl, for your hospitality.  And thanks to Sam for taking Sage on her first golf cart ride.  :)

sage and sam

Coyotes and Bobcats

The coyotes were hungry early. My brother, Mick, and I constructed a campfire while Sage entertained us with stories and dancing and singing. David was on his way back from meetings and a speaking engagement at a college. It was just after sunset. Folsom's floppy ear stood up straight, and we all heard the symphony of several coyotes singing and yelping. Usually, they begin their song around midnight. Usually, you hear but do not see them. But the next day, mid-morning and just before the weekenders arrived, one coyote emerged from the vegetation that delineates campsite from campsite. He stood in the middle of the road. About 15 minutes later, a bobcat stood in the same spot. Neither approached our camp but looked us over. They were gone as suddenly as they appeared, and before I could pluck my camera from inside El Valor. Now we are in Rockport on Copano Bay. Coyote tracks are sprinkled all over this little peninsula. Raccoon and various bird tracks, too.

The gifted and ever-inspiring Mick Tinsley, fireside at cedar hill sp

Waking up in WalMart

...in the parking lot, that is. Last night we slept comfortably on the backside of the San Marcos WalMart. Boondocking. In other words, we slept in our camper in a parking lot without hookups to electricity or water. No big deal. We have been living this way -- hauling our own water, generating our own energy -- for the past three weeks. Except for the one night we stayed at Americana in Mission, we have been almost entirely self-reliant for all our energy and resource needs...Plus, WalMart has bathrooms! And 24-hour-access to food...Day 2 of our northbound quest has begun. if you notice us on the highway, be sure to wave or shoot us an email. You can't miss us...and we would love to hear from you!

Time to fly

Tomorrow, we will have been camping on the beach for 3 weeks. Astounding. Two weeks we lived gulf-front on Padre Island National Seashore, then we spent one night on the Nueces County beach. For the past week we have been perched on the sweetest spot of Bird Island Basin, a spot within the Seashore on Laguna Madre that is popular with windsurfers and fishermen. Our 'site is but a few feet from the water. Sunsets, moonrises and sunrises have inspired us daily as we continue creating landscape designs that help to restore Texas' natural beauty. Tomorrow we will leave this coastal paradise and start making the familiar trek toward another of Texas' gems: the Blackland Prairie. But first, we have an exciting detour...

The Milk(y) Way

Sage likes to have a glass of milk every couple of days. Hands down, this has been one of our greatest challenges: keeping milk cold. Without access to electricity, our refrigerator will not work. Our cooler keeps things cold enough for a few days, but there are other issues. I started with a plastic half-gallon container. About half of it soured because I don't drink the stuff and David only does with cookies. We haven't been eating many of those, either. I scaled back to smaller packaging, but mostly they are paper-based, and become waterlogged as the ice melts and everything dives into the icy soup. Quickly the paper breaks down, creating a milky frothy mess in the cooler. Then I tried individual sizes in plastic containers. Worked great, except the caps are not water-tight. No matter what, the milk spills or spoils. Not green...or economical. Powdered milk, you're up. Dazzle me.

Good things come

A couple of days ago I read in Simple Abundance that by having a more positive emotional response to money, we can attract more money and thereby perpetuate positive sentiments about money. It's a Wall Street spin on the attracting-more-bees-with-honey adage, I presume. Although I seem to most an insufferable Pollyanna, I'm actually a skeptic turned believer of the power of positive thinking. Believe me, I've walked through some of life's dark corridors and wondered if I would ever make it out alive. I did, and since then I make a point to celebrate every moment of life. Fully. So for many years I've lived my life, my way. I dare to dream and expect -- no, command -- them to come true. "Failure is impossible", declared Susan B. Anthony. I agree, especially when you have the muscle of unflappable confidence and positive thought on your side. You don't need others' support when you believe in yourself and your dreams. But if you want bounteous good things to come your way, support a dreamer's dreams.

This is why...

Some days, like today, I look at Sage and worry I've missed something important. One of her developmental milestones, if you will. I find myself rapidly running through first tooth, first steps, first word, desperately clinging to every moment. Then I seem to regain logic and reason; I haven't missed a thing. I have been with her almost every second of her life. David, too. Maybe all mommies (and daddies) experience this memory-panic. Maybe it's because today she is exactly 2-and-3/4-yrs-old and subconsciously I am marking the anniversary. Each day there are new moments to commemorate, new milestones to celebrate. I want to witness every single one...and this is just one reason why we have chosen this lifestyle. There are other reasons -- some I have written or will write about, and others that are private. When I see all the things my 2-almost-3-yr-old is learning and seeing and doing, I do not question my choice. I know all the reasons why we are here, happily celebrating milestones...together.

The Ilfreys have left the National Seashore

If you want to test your child's mettle (and your own), try living outdoors for two weeks. On the beaches near Corpus Christi, under a blazing sun and in the path of some pretty spectacular wind. These are harsh conditions, and that my almost-3-year-old endured them -- no, THRIVED despite them -- impresses me. She has not complained once about the sand or salt or wind...or anything, really. Except maybe naptime; she worries she might miss something exciting. The wind picked up today. Blustery. Tide is high...so we had to move on. Still in Corpus but no longer on Padre Is Nat'l Seashore. Everybody is exhausted. Before now, David and I have never lasted more than 3 days camping on the seashore. This time, we survived a whopping 2 wks. I hear the wind snarling as it pushes and shoves our truck and camper around. I'm smiling, a proud green mommy. We did it. If we are still enthusiastic about our journey after today, and believe me are, we could live like this a long time. Dream realized.

Storage...

Yesterday I donated 5 more bags of clothing. That makes around 20 small bags, or so, of clothing and household items in three separate visits. Every few days we assess a thing's usefulness and versatility. If it is being used, and can fulfill a few different roles, then it stays. Negligible or non-use, or single-purpose items go the way of my paint-splattered Crocs: Goodwill hunting. With more items gone, we are now able to put away all our clothing, shoes, dishes and towels. David and I each have one drawer and our shoes are combined in a space under Sage's bed. Sage has two drawers for clothing; one for dress-up clothes; one for art supplies: two for books and puzzles; and one for miscellaneous dolls and other toys. She also has a crate full of "bouncy balls"...and that's just the stuff in the trailer. Inside the camper, we each have a bin with small sliding doors. Books spill from all three. Toiletries are stored in a basket approximately 12" long x 12" wide x 12" tall in a cabinet under Sage

I have lost so many posts written (typed) on my phone because of an overly sensitive back button. And an overzealous thumb, most likely. Raising those lost treasures from Davy Jones' locker would be an impossible feat. That's right, I just invoked a pirate metaphor. Fitting for the current leg of our journey...Power is almost restored so I should be posting more regularly and coherently soon. Cross every available appendage. Please. We have a lot of designs to do...and intermittent "juice" is just not working out...Also, I have many posts ready to upload. Only 4 wks mobile and already there are wacky stories to share. They may be grouped as a) discoveries in Nature, b) bleep Sage says, c) mishaps, d) people of the road and e) answers to your questions. I'm not sure where to begin. Send me your suggestions; I'll let you guide the next several posts...All is quiet in El Valor except for the faint beeping of me texting and the slightly louder crashing of waves. High tide should peak within the hour..