austin

Aug. 13, 2009


We were about 20 miles outside of Austin and still not sure where we’d stay. My two contacts had yet to get back to me.

We pulled into a pecan artisan shop next to the highway. Jarred honey, dark chocolate pecans, fresh peaches. A woman approached us as we were perusing. We told her about our trip. “Well, do you have a place to stay in Austin?” She didn’t know what she was in for.

A few hours later—after 2 more flats—we pulled up to her house in central Austin. Her two young daughters, Willow and Scout, greeted us through the window and her husband, Richard, met us in the carport. They had orange, carrot, strawberry smoothies waiting in the backyard and enchiladas in the oven. The family next door joined us all in the dining room for dinner. Emmet, the 8-year-old neighbor, informed us he’d be cooking his special recipe for breakfast. The next morning, after a shower and waking up in a soft bed, we found ourselves next door eating pancakes with strawberries and maple syrup.

My brother drove down from Dallas, and our hosts suggested “The Broken Spoke” for evening entertainment. A thin well-endowed blond called out two-step instructions and we shamelessly stepped it out in our Chaco sandals and jean shorts.

The next morning, we gathered our hosts, their kids, the dogs, my brother and Bree’s dad for a family-reunion style photo opp. in the backyard.