The Prettiest Wedding Yet

We just raised the bar for weddings @ The Windmill. Since we opened in March of 06, we've had maybe 12 to 18 weddings out here. All of them have been pretty. All of them special. All of them perfect (and not so perfect) in their own special way. But the wedding we had out here last Saturday NIGHT for Kendall and Cade was hands down my favorite.
I think it's because they had it at night. The contrast between a jet black ski and tiny, bright twinkle lights always gets me. Plus, there was a chill in the air. It felt like winter and the families did a fantastic job.
Pardon me, but I gotta tell the story in chronological order. Otherwise, I'll get lost. First, all brides get access to WRP Friday @ 12pm before their big day. We do this for chaos control. Things will change. Decorations range from BIG to little. So, we always include plenty of time.
Usually, families want to get here @ sunrise on that Friday. But in this case, I bet the family didn't show up til 5:00pm. In fact, I took a nap waiting for them. But when they arrived, they were ready to go--no messin' around, if ya know what I mean.
We had a fun rehearsal Friday night with an absolutely INCREDIBLE spread prepared by the groom's dad, Tim Owen. I'd still want to know how he bbq'd his shrimp. All had a good time, me too.
By the next morning, it was full steam ahead by 9:00am. Kendall and Cade picked one of our arbors for the ceremony. We already had twinkle lights under each one, but the family added dried mesquite, spray painted white with twill over the altar.. In the daylight, it looked great, by night time... WOW!
The family said 100 would come and 100 came. We all huddled under the portable heaters, but from what I could tell--everything went off without a hitch. At one point, I looked up and said to myself: "I sure hope someone's getting a picture of this." Then at another point, the crowd gasped as a shooting star shot across the pitch black, starry night.
Thanks to Pastor Tommy (Colonial Hills Baptist), he had Kendall and Cade kissin' and I doin' pretty quick. It was pretty cold out there. So, I'm wouldn't say I saw people running for the heat of the pavilion, but put it this way: no one was slowing down to chit chat.
You know a lot of folks wanna have a big sit down meal for their reception. DON'T DO IT! It's a waste of money! We do our "Walking Hors' deourves". It's great. People can roam, visit, and gnosh til their full.
Once we had folks in our big pavilion, the waiters began cruising among the guests. The menu for Saturday started with: Baby New Potatoes stuffed with a cream cheese, bacon, chive mousse. Then, we served stuffed mushrooms with pecorino, romano cheese and finally prime rib or chicken kabobs withe marinated fresh veggies.
Sounds good, eh? Our chef is new. She's worth a million bucks, but don't tell her!
After the big eats, the crowd enjoyed incredible cakes made by the groom's sister, Whiteny Owen. I knew they were good after I tried 'em and then looked up and spotted one of our waiters off in corner stuffing his face like he had only one minute to eat til' he was full.
After that, the fun became a big party. Good music, good dancin' and good times. The families left this morning after a big ranch, continental breakfast and a lot of laughs.
So if you see them around town, you might wish Kendall and Cade Owen congratulations. And if you see the bride's family, Cindy and Jackson Brewster, or the groom's family, Tim and Trussia Owen, give 'em a pat on the back. They're great folks and we're all the better for getting too enjoy a few hours of their lives.
Good people. Good times. Thanks for letting us play along.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Concerts, Weddings & Sandwiches

The three nouns in the title bar have very little in common except that right now I'm eating and sleeping all three, although only one noun is really edible.
Concerts: We just wrapped our last concert in the Live at The Windmill series. The idea when all this began in April was to give indy musicians a fun place to play and bring new acts to the area. The jury's still out on "Live's" success or failure b/c it's hard to make a judgement after only one season. We did have some fantastic acts. If you ever get a chance to see "The Hogg Maulies," "The Kim Townsend Group", "Glitter Rose," "Thomas Champagne," "Ruben V," "The Bruise Brothers," or "Andy McIntyre and the Primal Groove" don't miss 'em. Great stuff.
The shows started on Sunday afternoons in April on our main stage in the north pasture. But due to smaller audiences and extreme summer heat, we moved them to our pool stage and random Saturday nights. More than once I heard guests say while under a full moon and starry skies, "wow, this is great." I just wish more people had been wow'd. And every band said, "incredible." We'll see about next year. The bands are nice, but don't play for free.
Weddings: We've had many fun weddings out here and this upcoming weekend's event should be no exception. Kendall and Cade, November 15th under the arbors. This time it's a night wedding complete with twinkle lights under the arbors, spotlights on the windmill and a reception to rival them all. Many have asked me why I get so wound up for a wedding. My feelings are this: No one goes into a wedding expecting anything but success. So, I perceive this day as their most important day! Literally, it's the first day of their lives. We plan to standby by that motto this weekend even if the weather throws us a cold curve.
Sandwiches: I haven't ever written about much besides the ranch in my blogs, but times; they are a changin'. A new venture about to happen is The Big Apple Deli. It's our sandwich shop/beer & wine bar on the downtown square. We're slated to open December 8th. To say there are a million little details to handle before then is a GIANT understatement.
The Big Apple Deli is completely modeled after The Caterie in Baton Rouge. That's a deli/bar where I worked as a teen. I loved it then. I think I love it now. We'll see. By the way, our motto is: The food's okay, but the restrooms are great! Stop by, you'll see.
Anyway, that's what's going on in my life. None of it is the be all-end all. It's just what I do. So, if you're ever in this area in spring and summer please check to see if we're having a concert. If you're falling in love and want a fun place for a wedding, give me a call. And if your hungry and need a fun bathroom, stop by the deli.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
Snyder, TX
325.573.1200

Pack Rats Ate My Tractor

Well, that's not exactly true, but it makes for a great title. The real story starts earlier this week.
You see, Dove Season begins tomorrow (Monday, Sept. 1st). So to get ready, I always make sure I track the doves and then shred (using my tractor) areas where the hunters can get under trees or behind sunflowers or around Josie's Tank.
In this case, I wanted to shred around Josie's Tank which always proves a hot spot, watering hole for the birds---at least if it doesn't rain.
It's a big area with thick grass and sparse sunflowers leading down to the water's edge. Years ago, my granddad kept it tidy like a Dallas park. My mom tells stories of the family picnicking under the big trees and my grandmother fishing along the banks. Keep in mind, that was 50 years ago. So now, we're just trying to keep it from growing out of control with a reasonable sense of tidiness.
That's where I come in. Every year before Dove Season, I begin about a week or two out preparing the tank and other areas, using the tractor. Usually, I can just jump on it, turn the key and get to work. Not this time.
This time, I jumped on, turned the key and got NOTHING! No click, no zip, no uga/uga. NOTHING. Hmm, I thought. Actually, I barked something unprintable, for a couple of reasons. One, the problem screwed up my plans and two, I can't fix anything mechanical.
But, I better look under the hood anyway.. right? Maybe it's out of oil or needs diesel. I can do that. But that wasn't the problem. One glance told me immediately what was wrong. There were two, not so subtle clues.
The first clue was the hundreds of mesquite beans under the hood, all packed together like a nest. And the second clue, the real reason it wouldn't start was: whatever made the mesquite bean nest had chewed through a bunch of important looking wiring.
Again, I'm no mechanic but I had to believe two or three pretty colored wires chewed in half had to be a problem.
The rest of the story is, I found someone in town who had the tractor fixed and running w/in 24 hours with some good advice too.
"Put mothballs in a sock and keep 'em in the engine when you're not using it. Rodents and snakes hate the smell," he said.
"What", I asked.
"Yep, it works and plant wild onions around your house--that'll keep 'em out too."
"No kiddin'".
"No kiddin'".
So, the next time pack rats eat your tractor or your worried about rodents/snakes getting into your house--pack mothballs in a sock or plant wild onions.
If nothing else, the smell's not that bad and you can put in the onions in a good stew.
Bill Robertson

Rainy Sundays

I don't know about you, but give me a rainy Sunday, on any given Sunday. A drizzly, damp, breezy, overcast, comfortable, gray sky, dripping water off gutters kind of Sunday is like chocolate syrup on vanilla ice cream for me. It's pratically perfect in every way.
I don't know how many people I've told this, probably a few, but if I were King--the week in weather would unfold like this. Sundays would be just like today, a little drizzly--nothing severe. Monday's (who likes a Monday) would be mildy violent. Nothing dangerous or harmful, just a touch of 'EDGE' in the air, some thunder, a strong breeze. Tuesday's would calm down, but still be overcast with persistent, if not consistent drizzle. By Wednesday, it's cool. The morning's kind of hazy, maybe a touch of rain. But by Thursday morning, the skies begin to clear. And by Thursday noon through Saturday night... all's good.
Crazy, I know but it's days like today that have me enjoying the plain, old good stuff. Here I sit, writing this blog. There's nothing special about it. I could be in NYC. Still, the rain (drizzle) delivers a calmness, a quietness (except for a loud Bob White Quail).
It's really a time out here @ the ranch to just rusticate, enjoy what's in front of me or you. I think it's what I dreamed about when I escaped from the corporate world. I thought, I'll live on a ranch, everything will go @ a 'ranch pace.'
Well, the truth is; yes, everything goes @ a 'ranch pace', but if you expect to make a living--you better not sit down too long. The rain/drizzle gives me an excuse to sit down. It gives me a reason to put all those 'important projects' on hold. Sure, it'll put me behind. But at the time, it gives me a reason to remember... to remember the whole reason why I wanted to escape Corporate America and live the 'cowboy lifestyle.'
So if you get a weekend, c'mon out. I can't promise it'll rain. But if it does, the wonderful quietness is like a Christmas bonus. That is, you hoped for it, but didn't plan on it. And now that you have it, enjoy it til' it runs out.
Thanks
Bill

What Are Your Hobbies? Honestly.

Our local newspaper has this great section at the bottom of its front page called "Meet Your Neighbor." Each day, they profile a local person, tell where they're from, announce their hobbies and more.

I often wondered if I'd honestly answer the 'hobby question.' The truth is my hobbies are; playing golf, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and watching TV.. not necessarilly in that order, but true.

The question is, how would I answer if asked. I dunno. The point is, a 1,000 acre ranch is a great place to practice just about any shot in golf.

Before I write more, you gotta know the 'back-story.' I once played golf like most people eat. That is, if I wasn't playing, I was practicing @ the golf course, if I wasn't practicing @ the golf course, I was practicing with wiffle balls in a vacant lot, if I wasn't playing or practicing-I was watching the Golf Channel. And if I wasn't doing any of the above, I was probably watching a golf themed movie. I know "Happy Gilmore" and "Tincup" from start to finish. Got it?! I played a lot of golf. Too much golf.

I do not recommend the above scenario. In fact, I gave up the game except for the occasional nine holes. The truth is, the few times I've played in the recent past, I've put away just about all golf 'things', like gloves, fancy shoes, expensive balls, any 'golf gear.' Now when I play, I don't keep score, I wear flip flops, my glove(s) stays in the bag and the balls are the cheapest things I can find @ WalMart.

Now to the point. The Windmill Ranch is approximately 1,000 acres. I played golf recently. So, I caught a touch of the 'hit it straight and far bug.' I figured this afternoon---what the heck. Go hit a few balls.

If you've ever played golf, you know. The point is hit the ball to a target. Know your distance. Know your swing. And you know; the first thing you lose if you don't play is your 'touch.' Suffice it say, I've lost my touch.

Here's the picture. I have a pretty, bermuda grass area that runs from our pool (foreshadowing) to our flag pole and some big life like metal horses (more foreshadowing). Within the last two hours, I grabbed four (cheap) balls out of my bag and my 60-degree (if you don't know, you don't play).

I started with my back to the pool, aiming west toward the flag pole, about 75 yds. The first shot flew pretty true--off target by 5 feet short and three feet left, a make-able two putt. The second shot, not so good. The third shot was even better than first.

Next, I stepped off the shots to measure distance and accuracy. Then, I re-loaded by the flag pole.
Long story short, the next few 'back and forths' went okay. I didn't break any windows, thank goodness. Then shooting back toward the pool, the swing felt good, but a non-existent divot told the story. I hit a big flier. It sailed high and pretty with a slight draw, but disappeared.

If you're thinking it went in the pool, you're right. No worries. I'm down to two balls. So, I continue the back and forth. Things are going okay. Then, bloop! Another ball in the drink. So now, I'm down to one ball & facing west toward the flag pole and the metal horses.. remember them.

My worst enemy in golf has always been my head, too may swing thoughts. Here I am. I'm lined up with perfect aim to the flag pole. It's 75 yards, approximately a half swing. I remember an old GOLF CHANNEL line: say "Cindy" on your backswing and "Crawford" on your follow through for balance.

So why not. I mumbled "Cindy/Crawford" and klank. The only ball I have squirts right, tail hooks left and dives. It dives straight into one of the three metal horses. That''d be okay, but metal richotes. The ball hit horse #1 with a CLANG, bounced high and right. Then, it powdered the middle horse in the right ear.

So, if you'r visiting-don't look @ horse #2's ears, they don't match. Suffice it to say, I collected my lone ball, spotted the two others in the pool and fired up a cigarette.

So I guess if the newspaper ever comes to me for their "Meet Your Neighbor" piece, I'll probably say one of my hobbies is golf, but add 'FORE!" (and, "you gotta a lighter?)

You?

Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Crawfish, Floods & Frenchmen

Did you hear the one about the boiled crawfish, the flood and the three Frenchmen. I'm not sure there are too many sentences that any of us can say; 'that's the first time I ever heard that.' But for me, this is a first.
I haven't written a blog since November. I guess it's because nothing's really 'wow'd' me. Or maybe, it's because business is good and time's short. Then again, maybe it's because I forgot my password til' this morning. Whatever the reason--I'm coming off a very unusual 24 hours.
It all started around 2pm yesterday when my youngest son, Joe, and I began our last full Saturday of his summer visit @ the ranch.
We swam, goofed off, did the normal silly saturday stuff. Then as luck would have it, a friend of mine who owns an eatery in Union was holding his First Annual Crawfish Fest. So here's where the unusualness of this day begins.
First of all, to get crawfish in west Texas is like getting $3.50 gas these days. It's just not gonna happen unless it's something special or you've won a prize. So, we weren't gonna pass up the chance.
Long story short, the mud-bugs were great. Joe almost ate his weight. All in all, not so weird of a start to the day, but the unusualness is growing, festering you might say.
From crawfish, we planned the rest of our day like this; Go to grocery store, get a big dinner, cookout back at the ranch, shoot, swim. Then, I made the fateful wish.
I did it last year and should have learned my lesson, but I didn't. I said, "Joe, I wish we could have a lil' rain so we could sit inside, watch movies, eat a ton and just relax." The morale is, be careful what you wish for.
No sooner did I make my wish than clouds, big black, thick clouds began to build in the west. Then almost immediately, the rain came and came and came. Then, Zzzzt. The power went out.
Okay at this point, you have choices at the ranch. Wait. Wait. Wait. Or, go up on a hill call the electric company and wait. I chose to call and wait and that's when the most unusual part of the day began.
As I'm getting off the phone, I see a bluish SUV pulling down the ranch drive. I don't think much about it because I'm actually expecting a few friends out to visit. As Gomer Pyle would say, "Surprise, surprise, surprise."
It turns out, the SUV carried three Frenchmen, guys from France: the country. They're artists traveling the USA trying to sell their work. They'd heard about Windmill online and thought it'd make a nice place to stop on their way to Santa Fe.
I mean, what do you do when the electricity's out and there are three Frenchmen standing in the pouring rain in your parking lot? What could I do? Joe & I said, c'mon in!
So here it is, getting dark, no electricty, raining, lightning, windy. Who could expect a first in a lifetime experience like this? So, we ate chips, peanuts and leftover crawfish on our rainy front porch.
They were Fabian, Jean-Baptiste and Benjamin. They started in Miami. They'll wrap up their road-trip in Los Angeles @ the end of the month. One's a painter, one's a sculptor and the other's a photographer. All in all, they love the USA but miss French coffee.
I didn't get to see much of their work, except from the photographer, Benjamin, because he carried his digital camera. Turns out, he has a thing for fire hydrants. He's taking pictures of hydrants in every city he's visited because as he says, "they're all different." And you know what, he's right.
The three Frenchmen on a road trip just left the ranch bound for Santa Fe via Lubbock, Muleshoe, Clovis and beyond.
Now, the ranch is quiet. More rain looks like it's headed this way. About the only way to beat the unusualness of yesterday is if, three Germans show up, it starts to snow and we put shrimp on the barbie.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

The Eatin' Kvetons

I just met the most remarkable family!
We've hosted family reuions before, all good. But "The Eatin' Kvetons" broke the mold. I genuinely don't know where to start. First of all, they were the most diversified group I've ever hosted. Secondly and most importantly, they are definitely the most loving group I've ever had the priviledge to meet.
Dad is John. Mom is Jean. He's Czech. She's German. They live in Abernathy. They're tremendously extended family ranges from Lubbock to Austin to Dallas to Weatherford to Hobbs, NM.
Seriously, I don't know where to start. This is a case of meeting people who are so much bigger and better than myself.
John's a cotton farmer. Jean's the mom who runs the show. John and Jean put 22 kids, both biological and foster, through college. Now, those kids are doctors, nurses, cotton experts, deep sea divers, big wigs with McDonalds, and more.
Really, there's not enough room in cyberspace to detail the many epiphanies I had this weekend, but let me try.
Mr. John and Ms. Jean already had a big family on the farm. They began taking in kids probably back in the 70s. I think Barbara was the first. She makes GREAT fudge. Then came many, many others.
There's May, who escaped from Vietnam. And then May's mother. There's Tahn, who's May's son. There's Gary who dated a daughter, but when that failed he still belongs to the family.
There's Danny who's married to Julia (great cook). There's Ann and Scott (scott says she's his angel). There's Sandra (who's dived all over the world). There's also Hon do who served as a Lt. in the South Vietnamese army and now directs McDonalds restaurants from Snyder to Lubbock and beyond. Then there are all the kids, who offered so many times to help clean, do the dishes, anything.
The names are too many and almost don't matter when you consider how they are. I say before I've had family reunions because I want to put things into perspective.
At other times, groups had fun and enjoyed themselves. But in this case, the tremendous amount of love was overwhelming. They were grown children jumping into each others arms. Laughing around a bonfire @ 7am. Grown children walking around in their robes before sunrise. Women saying, "I didn't bring air freshner and I'm sharing a tent with three men."
The absolute best was Mr. John and Mrs. Jean. Mr John and I had a wonderful talk about his kids while washing dishes. And Ms. Jean hugged me this morning and told me that I was an honorary "Eatin' Kveton". I genuinely am so honored.
Make no mistake. I have a great family. But, it's a wonderful pleasure to be accepted by such a great group of people.
this has been a great weekend. Thank you Kveton family. I wish I had more time and space. I'll remember all of you for a long, long, time. You are wonderful. I think I got more out of this weekend than you did and I don't just mean the wonderful food.
You've heard that the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree. Suffice it say, Mr. John and Ms. Jean are wonderful oaks and their many kids are all part of the same wonderfully, peaceful forest.
This has been the type of weekend that makes me wonder, what would the Kvetons do. If you meet any of them, you'll say the same thing.
Thank you.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Good Thing I Like Hats

It's a good thing that I like hats b/c I'm wearing a lot of 'em these days. You know the old expression, "So in So wears a lot hats." I guess it means they can do or must do a lot of different chores.
Well if there's one thing I've learned on the ranch, it's this: I better know how to do something. Granted, some have told me (recently) my work's not perfect or even half-a*%, but I still gotta do it.
So far, I've been a plumber, an electrician, a carpenter, a gardner, a bricklayer, rock layer, flower planter, pool boy, vineyard digger, horse feeder, cook, bartender, painter, hunt guide, host, waiter, dishwasher, DJ, gravel mover, mower, fountain unplugger, designer, light bulb replacer, flag hanger, sign maker, and more.
My latest feat is flower arranger. Up until now, someone's always been out here to handle the various flowers we place on tables, in guests' rooms and just around the place. But tonight, I got my first lesson in flower arranging and it's much harder than it looks.
For example, how in the world are you supposed to know what to cut off and how much to cut off so the flower sits in the vase like it's supposed to? Also, what goes with what? Can you mix sunflowers with lavender? Apparently, not! What about combining grasses with sunflowers? Maybe.
My point is; there are lots of jobs out here I'd rather hire out to someone better equipped or definitely more creative, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
So if you see a flower arrangement and think, 'oh, that's not perfect or even half-a*%--blame it on me. I'm a much better plumber than I am a flower arranger.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

Two things you can't fix

I just got back from the hardware store with either a new saying or a great piece of advice. I'm not sure which.
What you need to know first is, this is a place that I go everyday. In fact, I'm there so often that when I leave--they don't say "have a nice day" or "thanks for your business" or even "come back!"
I'm @ this store so often that they say, "see ya in about an hour." It's true. I counted one day that I went to this particular store 11 times. That's ELEVEN! The good news is; now I'm down to two or three times a day. The truth is, I can rate my day on how frequently or rarely I go to the hardware store. A great day is once. A miracle is zero.
The place is called "Southern Electric". It's a family owned place. I'm in there so often that not only do I know the men who work behind the counter by their first names. I know their wives first names and most of their children. But if you're ever in Snyder and need anything from a lightbulb to lumber, this is your place. These guys know their stuff and that leads me to either the good advice or new saying I got on my last visit.
I was buying wasp spray and just happend to ask, 'do any of you know a good plaster man?' To that, Richard said, "oh you can do it." I think Johnny said, "it's not that hard." But it was Wally, who's son is Corbin, who cracked his shoulder in football practice yesterday who said, "Bill, there are only two things you can't fix."
I asked, "What are those Wally?" He said, "you can't weld shut the crack of dawn and you can't mend a broken heart."
Good advice or great saying? You be the judge.
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve
325.573.1200

The Gospel & Dove Season

I wonder if there's a way to combine The Gospel & Dove season? I ask because here it Sunday morning. I'm reading some scripture @ a picnic table between shotgun blasts and falling BBs.
Seriously! I was reading scripture about truth, understanding, peace, faith, foregiveness amidst, BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
I know I'm getting fulfilled & whoever's blasting away is apparently having a terrific hunt. If nothing else, they're getting to pull the trigger a lot, a whole lot. And, that's half the fun of hunting---just busting a bunch of caps.
Meantime, all my dogs are running for cover. These are the same dogs that bark like a house on fire when vehicles pull into the ranch. But let them hear a gun or in Lola's case see a gun and they run away like the Knights did in "Monty Python & the Holy Grail."
I guess what inspired me to write this blog is, the incredible differences out here. I mean; here I sat, as peaceful as I could possibly imagine and then BLAM! I think the thing that made me smile was, the sound of shotguns didn't make me flinch @ all, even at my most sedentary.
Maybe that's my point, I can/you can (if you give yourself enough time) get completely lost out here. Other stuff can begin to happen around you, but not affect your 'me time.'
I wonder if a fella could read and shoot @ the same time. In my case, I'm such a bad shot it wouldn't hurt.
The Gospel & Dove season. I bet it'd word. The prayer would probably go something like, "Dear Lord; if it's your will let us get off lots of shots without hitting the other guy. Amen."
Bill Robertson
Mgr., Windmill Ranch Preserve