A visit this week with modern Western artist Jon Flaming revived a debate that’s been unfolding in my mind for a few years.
I was born in Michigan and moved to Texas when I was 5. I’ve now lived in the Lone Star State for 51 years.
Am I Texan?
I know how to ride a horse, I wear a cowboy hat frequently, I love enchiladas, I’ve visited Big Bend National Park more than 30 times, my drink of choice is the margarita, I eat pe-CONS not PEA-cans, and I’ve survived a deer-on-Ford F150-collision.
But I wasn’t born here.
Flaming was born in Kansas and moved to Texas when he was 5. He grew up visiting a grandfather who ran a 2,000-acre cattle ranch, always wears a hat and boots, and paints fantastic modern images of Old West cowboys that’ll make you swoon. But he never roped and branded cattle for a living.
“For a long time I had this misconception that I can’t be a cowboy because I live in suburbia,” Flaming told me this week, as I furiously typed notes into a computer from a chair at his home studio in Richardson. “Then I had this realization that I’m an artist, I can do what I want. About 10 years ago I finally wrestled that to the ground.”

Today he calls his home, which is filled with cow skulls and leather couches and yellowed old books, the Quarter Acre Ranch. He drives an F150. He works surrounded by a dozen old snapshots of dairy cows (“Bossy” is scribbled in ink on the front of one) pinned to a board. At least half a dozen cowboy hats hang from a coat rack behind him; his favorite is a 25-year-old Stetson. His dog’s name is Duke. Old license plates are nailed to planks on his wooden floor. And a Post-it Note on his computer says “Drill a well today.”
Flaming’s work – big bold canvases featuring geometric cowboys cradling calves and crouched by campfires, oil workers in the field, and barbecue restaurants – somehow blend the Old West with the modern day. It’s like a cowboy moseyed into an old WPA poster, lit a cigarette and stared into the future. His stylized artwork conveys the story of the people who made this state what it is today. I can taste the West Texas dust and smell the cow manure just looking at his work.
Is Flaming a cowboy?
Hell yeah.
Look for my story about Flaming in an upcoming issue of a legendary Texas publication.

Every year, Selah Bamberger Ranch Preserve hosts a fall color tour, so visitors can drink in some of nature’s red, orange and gold hues of the season.
The 2020 tours are scheduled for this Saturday, Nov. 21, but they’ll look a little different this year because of the pandemic. Five trails on the ranch will be opened for self-guided exploration. Admission is $50; register at https://bambergerranch.org/schedule/fall-colors-hike.
I got a preview of this year’s show today when I packed a brownbag lunch and drove out for a picnic with the preserve’s new executive director, April Sansom. We perched on a picnic table next to Madrone Lake, where big tooth maples and cypress were well into their fall transformation.

Sansom, who earned a degree in wildlife biology from Texas A&M University, then went on to earn a master’s degree and PhD from the University of Wisconsin in Madison, took over the post from long-time executive director Colleen Gardner, who left earlier this year. Sansom’s experience includes a stint in the Peace Corps in the Philippines and as executive director of the non-profit Community Conservation in Wisconsin. Her focus is on community conservation.
“(J. David Bamberger) is a guy who basically decided along the way he was going to make a difference,” she says of her new 92-year-old boss, who started his career as a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman, then helped create the Church’s Fried Chicken empire, before using his fortune to buy what he perceived to be the most worn out and abused piece of land in Blanco County. “The lessons he has learned over 50 years have benefitted and inspired so many land stewards.”
In her new role, Sansom hopes to expand the outreach of the Selah Bamberger Ranch Preserve.
“I would love to physically expand our borders, but we’re definitely working metaphorically to reach more landowners,” she says.
Sansom is no stranger to the ranch. She visited it as a teen-ager with her father Andy Sansom, the former executive director of the Texas Nature Conservancy, the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, and the Meadows Center for Water and the Environment.
Want to learn how you can adopt some of Bamberger’s life lessons to improve your own land?
The Selah team is planning a full schedule of educational workshops in 2021 – but prepared to modify them as needed, depending on the pandemic. The all-day sessions, informed by Bamberger’s own experiences and the knowledge of staff biologists, include a landowner stewardship overview; native grass workshop; wildlife enhancement workshop; and water workshop.
For more information, go to www.bambergerranch.com.

Until now, all of my forays to the San Antonio Riverwalk have been on foot – walking the winding sidewalk past shops, taking in the view from atop a stone bridge arching over the urban flow, and stopping for a cocktail or snack.
But last weekend, I pushed my yellow plastic kayak into the shallow waters of the San Antonio River early Sunday morning and paddled my way through the famous Texas tourist destination.
I spent about two hours on the river, making two leisurely circuits of the famous horseshoe. I glided alongside Casa Rio, where visitors have been eating enchiladas and sipping margaritas since 1946; I slid past hotels and beneath stone archways; I watched a duck lead her string of ducklings; and I saw bars and restaurants – from the water – that I’ve visited over the years.

My kayak trip was part of a pilot program by Mission Kayak, which rents kayaks and offers kayak instruction on other parts of the San Antonio River. Since the 1970s, the Riverwalk has been off limits to paddlers. Mission Kayak owner Sarah Neal worked with the San Antonio Riverwalk Association to allow paddlers to use the Riverwalk for six weeks this October and November. She’s now working with city officials to continue the program – either on special occasions or as a continuing program.
We put our boat in at a launch site (not normally open to the public) at Auditorium Circle and Fourth Street. We brought our own kayaks and paid $15 to launch, but rental kayaks were also available for $50. We were allowed to paddle between 8-11:15 a.m., before tourist barge traffic began. (Because of Covid, the barges are operating on a more limited schedule.)
My good luck charm apparently was working, too, because San Antonio Mayor Ron Nirenberg was out for a test paddle while we were there. Nirenberg says he likes the idea of opening the river to paddling on occasion, because it encourages locals, who sometimes consider the Riverwalk a destination for out-of-town tourists, to see their own city.
As I wheeled around another corner, I heard a holler from shore. Chet Garner, host of the PBS Series “The Day Tripper,” was visiting San Antonio with his wife and daughter, and spotted me. (I happened to be wearing a cowboy hat he gave me!)
By water, it’s about a mile from the put-in point to the start of the horseshoe. The entire circuit, from the put-in, around the horseshoe, and back to the start, is about 3.25 miles.
Paddlers must wear a life jacket, and must stay in their boats while they’re on the Riverwalk. Booze is not allowed on the water.
Neal hopes she can add some late night paddling sessions during the upcoming holiday season, so paddlers can experience the Riverwalk while it’s bedecked in thousands of lights. Stay tuned to find out about that.
“Everything just looks larger than life because you’re sitting 4 feet lower and on the water,” Neal says. “It’s an intimate way to see the city. You can feel the water each time you take a paddle stroke or someone goes by you.”
For more information, go to www.missionadventuretours.com.

Here in Austin, water skiing season lasts all year round for some people.
I’m not normally one of those people, but I did want to log a slalom run in November, so even though the thermometer read 45 degrees at daybreak yesterday, Chris and I dropped our boat into the water at Walsh Landing a little before 7 a.m.
I yanked on my shortie wetsuit, cringed a little in anticipation, and climbed behind the wheel for the cruise upstream toward the Pennybacker Bridge, where the water is smoother because it’s protected from the wind. Steam rose from the water – and from the mug of hot tea I’d brought along.
Back when I was learning how to run a slalom course about 15 years ago, my instructor would pour a pitcher of warm water into my wetsuit just before I jumped in the lake. It felt great. I didn’t have that this time, but the Lake Austin didn’t feel much colder than Barton Springs today.
Until I started skiing.

I jumped in, waited while Chris got the rope set, and took off, all without ever getting my face or hair wet. But the wind on my wet skin made turned me into a popsicle, and the longer I skied, the stiffer and colder my face and fingers got. I dropped after a shorter than normal run.
One big benefit? Stress relief. I’ve been anxious and rattled in the days leading up to the election, and the one thing that soothes my soul is getting out in nature. This worked like a charm.
The key to cold weather swimming is getting out of your wet clothes as soon as you exit the water, so I peeled off my wetsuit and bikini and wrapped myself in fleece pants, a sweatshirt and a thick deck jacket.
Now it was Chris’ turn.
He hopped in the water, didn’t whine too much, and made his own run. We passed a pair of white swans and swooped alongside some trees that were just starting to give off a hint of fall color. Again, nature works like a balm.
We saw no other motorboats on the lake, another bonus of getting out on the water when most people think it’s too cold to swim.
Now that I’ve logged a November water ski run, I’m thinking about December …

I’ve paddled the Devils River in West Texas three times in the past three years, and camped out there at least three other times.
During my last canoe trip a few weeks ago, clouds of Monarch butterflies drifted along the river corridor as I paddled through rapids and camped on islands.
I love the place. It reminds me of what Texas must have looked like generations ago, with its prickly, wide open spaces and a clear ribbon of turquoise water. It’s home to my favorite swimming hole on the planet, and scene of the great pinning of my Alumicraft canoe (thanks Indian Creek rapids!). I’ve eaten giant steaks on an island in the river, stepped over a tarantula on a ridge overlooking it, and flipped out of my canoe a time or two navigating rapids.
It’s been called the most pristine river in Texas, and I want to help keep it that way.

The Devils River Conservancy, which works to protect the river, has held its annual fund-raising event at the Witte Museum in San Antonio in recent years. Thanks to the pandemic, that’s not happening in 2020. Instead, the organization is hosting an online auction, where you can bid on items like art, guided tours, aoudad and turkey hunts, vintage drawings of Texas dams, gear, and a stay in the historic white house on Rio Vista Ranch. For $30, you can even get a Devils River Annus Horribillis 2020 shirt.
Proceeds support strategic water research, education programs, and advocacy to ensure the river remains wild and pristine for future generations.
The auction is open for bidding through Nov. 7 at Wild Devils 2020.

I’m so stressed out with election anxiety that I can’t sit still. (OK, so that’s me pretty much every day.)
This Halloween morning, to burn off some of the heebie jeebies, my husband and I loaded up our bikes and headed to our favorite Austin area mountain biking destination – the Slaughter Creek Preserve in South Austin, where a 5-mile single-track loop serves up stair-steppy drops, rock gardens and flowy, rolling inclines.

It’s moderate terrain that challenges my intermediate skills but (with a little luck) won’t leave me with a snapped collarbone or one less tooth. It’s not as technical as the twisty, ledgy terrain you’ll find on parts of the Barton Creek Greenbelt or Emma Long Metropolitan Park, and it doesn’t attract the big crowds of Walnut Creek Metropolitan Park.
Plus, you don’t need reservations to ride here, as you do at state parks these pandemic-stricken days. And it’s free.

We made two loops of the circuit this morning. The multi-use trail cuts through a 100-acre swath of land owned by the city of Austin and set aside to protect water quality. (Cyclists ride clockwise; hikers and equestrians head counter-clockwise. Cyclists should dismount and pull off to avoid startling horses.)
Confession: About five years ago, I busted my ass on a rocky incline near the start of the trail. I wound up at the minor emergency center with a thoroughly bashed shin and elbow, but it didn’t kill my will to ride Slaughter. And today – for the first time ever – I made it through the tricky section where I crashed without so much as dabbing a foot on the ground. Progress!
The trail is doable for beginner and intermediate-level cyclists. I’ve made it through every obstacle on the loop, but I’ve never made an entire loop without at least putting a foot down to catch my balance at least once.
Not up for the entire loop? You can take a cut-off trial that trims about 2 miles off the circuit and still includes the highlights.
The trail is open from dawn to dusk daily, but closes after rain to prevent erosion.(Check here for closure information.) You have to drive through an automatic gate to get to the parking lot and trailhead, which is next to the old Trautwein homestead at 9901 Farm-to-Market 1826.