The way it is, actually

February is a fine month in Houston, especially if we get intermittent rain to knock back the pollen. This February was noteworthy, and we've enjoyed it. I think every year at this time I get giant bursts of energy and also tend to run myself down. It also leads up to two big events in Houston's perennial calendar (no, not all the galas, but those are consistently amazing and numerous at this time of year), the doozies I am referencing are the rodeo and the azalea trail.

Non-Texan friends, especially those across the pond, tend to picture Houston as a bit of a cow town. Dust, spurs, horses and steaks. Usually, this description isn't quite accurate, other than the bevy of steak joints. But in the spring, we have a HUGE livestock show and rodeo, which raises money for agricultural educational scholarships and puts us all in a western frame of mind. Suddenly I view the bayou not as a mosquito-breeding, clay gungy muddy slime slug leading to the bay but an historical tie to times when there were Comanche outposts just paces from our homesite and buffalo actually roamed these lands.

This week every year, the relatives and descendants of trailriders matriculate through our modern city streets, halting traffic and generally admired in their anachronistic glory as their tired steeds trudge toward the Reliant Stadium mecca of all cowboy activity for a few glorious weeks in March.

We dress up in full western gear. Minus the horses at this house. Next week, we'll admire the bursting color all around us at the azalea trail.