Nevena Christi points to a label painted on a brick wall inside the El Paso workshop of Rocketbuster Handmade Custom Boots. “Wildcat,” it says. Elsewhere in the 1900 warehouse, similar labels mark sections for ocelots, badgers, and rats. “The building was a trappers’ warehouse,” Nevena explains. “The names of animals are written all over the walls, so the building has always had a history in leather, let’s put it that way.”
A 1956 sky-blue-and-white Chevrolet Bel Air Sport Sedan cruises a couple of laps around a San Marcos parking lot, its chrome bumpers gleaming in the sunlight, before finding the perfect parking spot.
In Cotulla, a formerly sleepy town roughly equidistant between San Antonio, Laredo, and Corpus Christi, the Texas Hat Museum represents a dignified calm amid the storm that is roiling South Texas—the oil-and-gas boom of the Eagle Ford Shale.
I feel a tug of skepticism as I test my tricycle legs at a storage facility just north of downtown San Antonio, preparing for this self-propelled tour.
What do you do when the souvenir you want is illegal? That was the question I asked myself as I drove down a narrow, two-lane road to Luckenbach (pop. 3), about 70 miles west of Austin.
A pleasant breeze rocked my kayak and rustled pale green and brown marsh grasses around me. Overhead, a few wispy clouds drifted across a blue sky.
My husband and I fell in love with the Dallas Arboretum through years of snapping photos of our four kids tucked among tulips and propped on pumpkins. Soon they were old enough to frolic in the Toad Corners Fountain, peek into garden cottages, and run barefoot across velvety lawns amid concert music and fireflies. So when I learned about the Dallas Arboretum’s plan to open a world-class children’s garden, we scheduled a family visit to explore its new wonders first-hand.
My parents went to the Texas Centennial Exposition, and all they brought me were these six miniature Centennial stamps. Not that I’m upset: Artifacts and images relating to Texas’ 100th birthday celebration, held in Dallas in 1936, make a great starting point for learning about Texas history.
From my shady perch on a high, breezy ridge, I scanned wooded slopes and rocky ledges fading to blue in the distance underneath a cloudless sky. It’s somehow comforting to know that hundreds of years ago, explorers sitting in this spot would have taken in roughly the same view of the rugged Balcones Escarpment landscape, now within the boundaries of Lost Maples State Natural Area.
It will be dusk or already dark as you enter through the gates at Screams Halloween Theme Park in Waxahachie, flames shooting skyward from the parapet of the haunted castle, fog rolling down the hill. You’ll walk past a cemetery, where mysterious dark figures lumber in the shadows. Immersed in Halloween for the evening—not just the 15 minutes or so that a standard haunted house might offer—you’re in for a frightful night. Lurking within are dozens of costumed actors, trained in the art of surprising their targets. After all, gory prosthetic wounds and menacing chainsaw props can only go so far: Getting scared is all about being startled.
From her vantage point hundreds of feet above a grassy plain bisected by a meandering stream, Beth Yoes of Beaumont aimed her digital camera at the sweeping vista, clicked the shutter, and captured the breathtaking scene.
Houston suffers from no shortage of museums, but I’ve always thought of The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, as the grande dame of them all. It was here that I first marveled at the splendor of European masters. As a mother, I’ve found that my appreciation for art is magnified when I experience it through the eyes of my children. So on a recent sunny day, I set out with my three young children for an afternoon at the MFAH and its companion sculpture garden to see what this Houston art institution has to offer for a family visit.