Anyone that grew up on the high plains of West Texas will remember the colors of Christmas: tan, yellow, brown and bright blue skies. The wind was always blowing, and it was usually very cold or quite warm.
![]() |
| View across the county road from October to January: cotton modules |
![]() |
| If we were very lucky, we avoided this at Christmas |
![]() |
| Magical winter neighborhood scenery |
We were visiting my suegra (mother in law), and I was out on an errand on Christmas day. I heard the craziest story from a couple of radio personalities.
One of the guys was talking about Christmas day in the 1930's when he was a little guy. He and his brother woke up at the butt crack of dawn. it was really cold in the clapboard house and still dark. They ran into the front room and looked under the Christmas stick tree. There were two presents. They couldn't wait, so they ripped them open. He got a pack of fire crackers, and his brother got a rubber kick ball. He said he went to the kitchen and got some matches, and they both went out the front door in a run. He lit the firecrackers and they were crazy loud. It scared his brother and he took off running and tripped on something. He fell on the ball and it popped. Christmas day wasn't even 10 minutes old and they had shot off and broken everything. He remembered being pretty glum the rest of the day.
My dad told me few stories of his youth, but never a thing about a Christmas. I figured his were a lot like that radio guy's. Dad lived on a farm that looked really similar to this.
![]() |
| I saw a pic of my dad when he was a boy in a place just like this. No green at all, just dirt. |
Happy Christmas.
.jpg)


















