Izzie, the picture you have in your post is very typical of the southwest-- an old gate crowded with tumbleweeds.
When the Russians started moving to the US, they brought winter wheat with a few Russian thistle seeds hidden in the packs. The thistles grow, dry out and become what is known here as tumbleweeds.
Songs have been written about them, usually fairly romantic, evocative songs, but tumbleweeds are a terrible problem. Still, even knowing the trouble they cause for ranchers and farmers and drivers, I love the sight of them.
Here are some lyrics from Sons of the Pioneers:
Quote:See them tumbling down
Pledging their love to the ground
Lonely but free I'll be found
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
Cares of the past are behind
Nowhere to go but I'll find
Just where the trail will wind
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
I know when night has gone
That a new world's born at dawn.
I'll keep rolling along
Deep in my heart is a song
Here on the range I belong
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
Hey, I have a good idea, why don't you come here in May? That would be sooo neat. I'd love to meet you, after hearing so many great things about you.
