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CLOVIS REMEMBERED: TUMBLEWEEDS
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"See them rolling along,
Deep in my heart is a song;
Here on the range I belong...
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds."
Oh, hello there! I was just sitting here, singing an old cowboy song and musing about old Clovis times and all the tumbleweeds there were blowing around town in those days...in the 30's and 40's. We had a lot of them, didn't we, in the fall when frost came and the cold winds of autumn began!
Tumbleweeds are actually dried-up Russian Thistles (SALSULA TRAGUS). There seem to be many cousins in this family including the SALSULA KAL. By definition---"A tumbleweed is the above-ground part of a plant, that once mature and dry, disengages from the root and tumbles away in the wind. They are thought to be native to Eurasia, and were brought to theU.S. accidentally in a shipment of flaxseed, shipped to N. Dakota in the nineteenth century."
Having about 500 hours on a Case Wheatland Tractor, pulling a 22 1/2 foot One-Way Disc Plow in fields around Clovis, I can say that I have seen perhaps thousands of weeds, mostly dead and stacked up against fences, barns, and any obstacle. When green, they thrive anywhere that plows cannot reach: fence rows, borrow ditches, around windmills, old lake beds, edges of fields, and vacant lots. When you plowed them under out in the field, they were usually small and growing.
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"See them rolling along,
Deep in my heart is a song;
Here on the range I belong...
Drifting along with the tumblin' tumbleweeds."
Oh, hello there! I was just sitting here, singing an old cowboy song and musing about old Clovis times and all the tumbleweeds there were blowing around town in those days...in the 30's and 40's. We had a lot of them, didn't we, in the fall when frost came and the cold winds of autumn began!
Tumbleweeds are actually dried-up Russian Thistles (SALSULA TRAGUS). There seem to be many cousins in this family including the SALSULA KAL. By definition---"A tumbleweed is the above-ground part of a plant, that once mature and dry, disengages from the root and tumbles away in the wind. They are thought to be native to Eurasia, and were brought to the
Having about 500 hours on a Case Wheatland Tractor, pulling a 22 1/2 foot One-Way Disc Plow in fields around Clovis, I can say that I have seen perhaps thousands of weeds, mostly dead and stacked up against fences, barns, and any obstacle. When green, they thrive anywhere that plows cannot reach: fence rows, borrow ditches, around windmills, old lake beds, edges of fields, and vacant lots. When you plowed them under out in the field, they were usually small and growing.
THE OLD LAKE BED
In Clovis , there was an old sunken lake bed full of thistles growing at the end of W. Fourteenth Street, and
a few blocks northwest of the new (at that time)Clovis Memorial Hospital . West Clovis and old Fourteenth were deluged with those tumbleweeds when they dried and blew into town. W. Grand always had it's fair share of TWs during the sandstorm days. Clovis alleys produced tumbleweeds and vacant lots were big contributors. People willing to hoe were hard to find.
I mentioned windmills---a prime location for tumbleweeds, as there always seemed to be some seeping water around somewhere. Mills themselves were usually fenced off to protect the working parts from cattle or horses. No plows ever went near a mill. Historians say that on big ranches of many sections, dozens of windmills were needed to water the stock. One ranch inTexas had forty windmills. These required greasing of the gears, sucker rod/pipe replacement, and routine maintenance. Self-respecting cowboys, we are told, wanted no part of windmill work---climbing to the top platform and particularly moving about in those ever-present big growths and piles of tumbleweeds around the base of the mill. This was a well-known HAVEN FOR RATTLESNAKES!
After an especially wet year, in the fall on the fences around farms in theClovis area, I have seen tumbleweeds piled along the full length of a fence. Never did I see a fence collapsed from the weight, but farmers cleared their fences, piled the weeds and on the first still day burned them.
WHY TUMBLEWEEDS AT ALL?
Why are there tumbleweeds at all on the Earth? It is difficult to make a case in their favor. Agricultural experts say that a Russian Thistle sitting at the edge of a crop field, will draw 45 gallons of water out of that field, during the life of the thistle. Then when it dies and blows across the field, it will break the crust of the soil and cause wind erosion.
Also the weeds are eyesores, hard to dispose of, give off prickly stickers, are fire hazards, are havens for rattlers as noted, and may pile up shoulder high around farm buildings and railroad tracks. (Google for interesting photos.)
ANY GOOD PURPOSE FOR TUMBLEWEEDS?
Surprisingly, while the weeds are generally nuisances to some people, on the other hand, despite their seeming worthlessness, they kind of capture the imagination and admiration of many people. They have been much-celebrated in poetry and song. When has anything so worthless been tolerated and celebrated so much? Maybe it's their carefree, irresponsible drifting, without a care and without a cause...not worrying about anything...a metaphor for some people. Maybe a good title for them would be "Benevolent Nuisances."
There IS one main use of tumbleweeds, without which the world would be poorer. That is: SYMBOLISM. Tumbleweeds are priceless in setting the stage in movies--- westerns, rural scenes, dust bowl days, deserts, isolated settings, and so on. Remember "Grapes of Wrath," and the dust bowl days? What about a deserted ghost town; how would you decorate it?
A good purpose for tumbleweeds would be in saving lives, wouldn't we agree? Here is a true story. At the beginning of WWII, my uncle, down inWest Texas , decided to get married. Being a farmer, he was able to obtain an empty old farmhouse, used for storing seed, as his residence. He and my new "aunt" cleaned it up, laid new linoleum and moved in. Their windmill, however, needed quite a bit of repair on the gears which required a climb up a wooden ladder to the platform and working there. My aunt, assisting in the work, climbed up there on some errand, and accidentally fell back-first off that windmill, twenty- five feet.
The farm, having been unused, had a great growth of tumbleweeds around the mill. I had seen it, myself. She landed right in the middle of five or six feet of dry tumbleweeds. It saved her. She lived, but all her life had back trouble.
THE MONSTER
I had a dear friend. He was a preacher, and I being a singer, we were in five or six revival meetings together. We also dove hunted, goose hunted, and trout fished in the Rio Grande Box. He had a sermon which I always enjoyed when he preached it. He called it: "FEARS: REAL AND IMAGINARY." In his sermon he noted a number of real fears which all men face; noting the spiritual implications.
He had a riveting story: When he was a boy about eleven, in the early thirties, down on aWest Texas cotton farm, he was old enough to take the old family .22 rifle and go out and bag a rabbit for the family dinner. This was a common practice in those days when rabbits were abundant and food was not.
One day, finding that the family was completely out of.22 ammunition, he asked his mother for money to go buy a box of ammo over at the crossroads store, two miles away. His mother got 35 cents out of the egg-money jar, gave it to him, and said: "Get yourself a five cent big orange and your .22 shells, but it is getting to be late afternoon and I don't like the looks of the light or those big clouds boiling up. Speed along, and hurry back."
So my friend hurried to the store at a brisk walk, arrived, got the ammo and his big orange drink, but got to looking at stuff in the store, and watching some old timers playing checkers. He was startled by a sudden big clap of thunder. He ran out of the store, saw clouds all around---it was raining and getting dark. He took off at a trot toward home, down that sunken country road that had been blown out by years of wind.
a few blocks northwest of the new (at that time)
I mentioned windmills---a prime location for tumbleweeds, as there always seemed to be some seeping water around somewhere. Mills themselves were usually fenced off to protect the working parts from cattle or horses. No plows ever went near a mill. Historians say that on big ranches of many sections, dozens of windmills were needed to water the stock. One ranch in
After an especially wet year, in the fall on the fences around farms in the
WHY TUMBLEWEEDS AT ALL?
Why are there tumbleweeds at all on the Earth? It is difficult to make a case in their favor. Agricultural experts say that a Russian Thistle sitting at the edge of a crop field, will draw 45 gallons of water out of that field, during the life of the thistle. Then when it dies and blows across the field, it will break the crust of the soil and cause wind erosion.
Also the weeds are eyesores, hard to dispose of, give off prickly stickers, are fire hazards, are havens for rattlers as noted, and may pile up shoulder high around farm buildings and railroad tracks. (Google for interesting photos.)
ANY GOOD PURPOSE FOR TUMBLEWEEDS?
Surprisingly, while the weeds are generally nuisances to some people, on the other hand, despite their seeming worthlessness, they kind of capture the imagination and admiration of many people. They have been much-celebrated in poetry and song. When has anything so worthless been tolerated and celebrated so much? Maybe it's their carefree, irresponsible drifting, without a care and without a cause...not worrying about anything...a metaphor for some people. Maybe a good title for them would be "Benevolent Nuisances."
There IS one main use of tumbleweeds, without which the world would be poorer. That is: SYMBOLISM. Tumbleweeds are priceless in setting the stage in movies--- westerns, rural scenes, dust bowl days, deserts, isolated settings, and so on. Remember "Grapes of Wrath," and the dust bowl days? What about a deserted ghost town; how would you decorate it?
A good purpose for tumbleweeds would be in saving lives, wouldn't we agree? Here is a true story. At the beginning of WWII, my uncle, down in
The farm, having been unused, had a great growth of tumbleweeds around the mill. I had seen it, myself. She landed right in the middle of five or six feet of dry tumbleweeds. It saved her. She lived, but all her life had back trouble.
THE MONSTER
I had a dear friend. He was a preacher, and I being a singer, we were in five or six revival meetings together. We also dove hunted, goose hunted, and trout fished in the Rio Grande Box. He had a sermon which I always enjoyed when he preached it. He called it: "FEARS: REAL AND IMAGINARY." In his sermon he noted a number of real fears which all men face; noting the spiritual implications.
He had a riveting story: When he was a boy about eleven, in the early thirties, down on a
One day, finding that the family was completely out of.22 ammunition, he asked his mother for money to go buy a box of ammo over at the crossroads store, two miles away. His mother got 35 cents out of the egg-money jar, gave it to him, and said: "Get yourself a five cent big orange and your .22 shells, but it is getting to be late afternoon and I don't like the looks of the light or those big clouds boiling up. Speed along, and hurry back."
So my friend hurried to the store at a brisk walk, arrived, got the ammo and his big orange drink, but got to looking at stuff in the store, and watching some old timers playing checkers. He was startled by a sudden big clap of thunder. He ran out of the store, saw clouds all around---it was raining and getting dark. He took off at a trot toward home, down that sunken country road that had been blown out by years of wind.
He had gone perhaps a mile when the rain increased and the wind started blowing a gale, pushing him along; it was fierce! And he looked back for some reason...and nearly died from fright. A BIG MONSTER WAS FOLLOWING HIM...AND GAINING RAPIDLY. Now, can you imagine how fast a truly scared eleven year old can run?!! He took that box of ammo in his right hand,and blew down that road like an anchor man in a 440 Relay. He looked back once again, and the monster was still gaining...seemingly filling the whole road!
On reaching his house and the drive-way---a red hard clay area---he wheeled into it and ran for the house, sitting back there 40 yards away. As he neared the house, he began yelling: "Mom, help! Mom, help!" Reaching the front door, he turned around to face the Monster! When he looked, there WAS no monster, but just then he saw THE BIGGEST, BLACKEST TUMBLEWEED HE HAD EVER SEEN go rolling by his driveway and right on down that road, "doing sixty!"
That was an IMAGINARY MONSTER but NO IMAGINARY FEAR!
Tumbleweeds...they ARE interesting!
Well, I've enjoyed talking with you today. Think I'll just rest a bit, and maybe sing a little.
"Cares of the past are behind,
Nowhere to go but I'll find
Just where the trail will wind,
Drifting along with the tumble-ing
Tumble Weeds!"
Sons of the Pioneers:
-------30-------
By MIl
6/6/12
Well, I've enjoyed talking with you today. Think I'll just rest a bit, and maybe sing a little.
"Cares of the past are behind,
Nowhere to go but I'll find
Just where the trail will wind,
Drifting along with the tumble-ing
Tumble Weeds!"
Sons of the Pioneers:
-------30-------
By MIl
6/6/12
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