"Back Home Again in Indiana" is one of my favorite songs. It always comes to mind, when the weather here in central Texas turns chilly and damp - like today. It's gray, on/off drizzly, and in the 40s. The leaves of what few deciduous trees we have are on the ground or about to be blown to the ground.
Red, orange, and gold leaves aren't abundant like in the midwest, east, and northeast. Mostly they are green or brown, but in the hill country we are blessed with "real" trees: live oak, sycamore, maple, and another variety of oak with smaller leaves. These are the only trees that grow "tall." Few grow above a second-story house, which bugs me. In Indiana there aren't any scrub mesquite or palm trees, thank goodness. I really dislike those species. People who never leave Texas do not have a clue what real trees are like.
A few years ago my husband and I lived in the Santa Cruz mountains with the towering redwoods all around us. Now those are TREES and I was in heaven.
In Indiana most houses have basements. God, what glorious structures! They are cool in the summer and warm in the winter. We made the most of our basement with playhouses and rollerskates.
Most of Texas doesn't have basements because of either the shifting sand or the impermeable rock.
Although I'm not pleased with the topography and biology of Texas, the people of the lone star state are quite friendly and homespun - for the most part. Those who aren't are either California transplants or snooty Republicans...but that's another post.
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