My Fig Tree

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When I purchased The Bungalow in 2017, there was an eight-foot fig tree adding its charm to a corner on the east side of the backyard.

Admittedly, I didn’t pay much attention to it at first, despite my Italian heritage and the significance of fig trees in our family history.

That changed when it was time to remove a rusty, old chain-link fence and have a cedar privacy fence installed. Sadly, one of the main branches of that fig tree was an obstacle to the new construction.

The fence builders suggested I simply have the fig tree cut down!

Little did they expect me to vehemently object, stop the work at hand and tell them more than they ever wanted to know about fig trees!

Little did they know the fig tree has always been a symbol of abundance, fertility and sweetness. Little did they know that the fig tree’s abundance of leaves and fruit make it a great shade tree (as little sun passes through their branches.). Little did they know that’s why so many Italian immigrants (like my grandfather) planted fig trees before they planted anything else in their gardens.

I told them, “Many varieties of fig trees originated in Italy, a country very dear my heart!”

I told them, "Fig trees produce delicious fruit. They can grow to heights of 15 to 30 feet; some of them reach up to 50 feet.”

The fence builders listened with more respect than interest but, finally, the crew boss offered another suggestion, “If you really want to save that fig tree, we could simply lop off that one large branch over there. The tree won’t look too good, but it should survive. But, it may not bear fruit for awhile.”

Without hesitation, I agreed to that plan! And, I’m glad I did.

Today, my treasured fig tree is still standing; it’s taller, fuller and prettier than ever! Yearly, it produces the sweetest fruit, and harvests are always plentiful.

As a result, I've collected a lot of recipes using figs. Most were found in Italian cookbooks. I’ve learned to make fig jam and fig chutney, fig pudding, pies and tarts. I learned to add figs to salads and how best to serve them with cheeses and meats and on pizzas.

I’ve also learned that ripe figs can be put in the freezer to eat (or cook with) later on.

Darlene's Shrimp

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Earlier this month, my son, Matt, spent a weekend in Galveston with me. His plan was to enjoy the slow pace of the island a bit and help me take care of a few minor projects around The Bungalow.

One day, he volunteered to run out and pick up some fresh seafood for lunch. His destination of choice was Darlene’s Shrimp Shack.

Matt had discovered Darlene’s on his last visit to the island and was eager to return and introduce me to the “best fried shrimp he’d ever eaten.” As it turned out, I couldn’t be happier. The fried shrimp were huge and beautiful and so, so good. Indeed, Darlene’s shrimp is, indeed, worthy of high praise!

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What you must know upfront: Darlene’s Shrimp Shack is not a restaurant; it’s a food truck. It sits on the west side of 61st Street, just steps away from Galveston Bay. It sells fresh jumbo shrimp caught daily by fishermen on its own shrimp boat. Darlene’s offers battered shrimp and “naked” shrimp (no batter), french fries, hush puppies. and canned drinks. That’s it!

The shrimp platters feature 10 gigantic shrimp, available in 10 delicious flavors. Already, I have my favorites: the Coconut Fried Shrimp and the Lemon-Pepper Shrimp top my list, but Darlene’s Garlic Parmesan Fried Shrimp and Barbecue Fried Shrimp are great too. And, I have no doubt the other flavors are just as amazing! (I’m eager to try them all.)

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Most customers drive up, place their orders at the window of the food truck and, in short order, take away to eat at home or at the beach. That is what I did the first time I went over there by myself. But, since then, I’ve gone back several more times and enjoyed dining out right there, sitting under the shady pavilion and on one of the picnic tables provided. The close-up view of Galveston Bay makes the experience all the more perfect.

Darlene’s Shrimp Shack is open Monday-Thursday from 9:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Hours are extended to 10:30 p.m. on Friday and Saturdays.

Oleander Festival

The Bungalow has been booked nearly nonstop since the first week in March, so my stays on the island have been confined to a day and night or two between outgoing and incoming guests, mostly on weekdays. So, being here for a weekend of fun is a rare and wonderful opportunity for me to reconnect with my island friends and take part in some of Galveston’s special attractions.

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Betty Head Oleander Garden Park. 2020

Betty Head Oleander Garden Park. 2020

The International Oleander Festival was scheduled for today and, as a new member of the hosting organization, I definitely wanted to attend and support this annual event. The festival is the group’s primary fundraiser of the International Oleander Society (based right here in Galveston). Proceeds help maintain the Betty Head Oleander Garden Park, located at 2624 Sealy.

I arrived at the festival about 10 a.m., right after the gate of the park opened. I met my friend, Marlee, there and, together, we walked around, checked out the lovely potted oleanders for sale and the offerings of the food and merchandise vendors, and enjoyed listening to live musical performances.

Sadly, due to the Great Ice Storm in Texas in February, the park was not in its best condition. The once-beautiful oleander bushes had all been pruned down to near their roots to give them a chance at a second life. We could see the pruning was effective; new and lush green leaves were sprouting forth from all quite nicely.

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Our visit to the International Oleander Festival proved to be a delightful exercise. We looked beyond the status quo of the garden and looked forward to a re-visit next spring and, especially, the return of the beautiful blooms of Galveston’s beloved oleander bushes.

Great Winter Storm

Photo taken on Galveston Island, near The Hotel Galvez and The Seawall, on February 17, 2021.

Photo taken on Galveston Island, near The Hotel Galvez and The Seawall, on February 17, 2021.

During the Great Winter Storm of 2021, officially called Uri, I was stuck in Houston, when power outages left millions of us Texans without electricity, heat and running water.

By wearing woolen gloves, hats, socks, pants and sweaters around the clock I managed to stay warm (enough). And, because of the presence of a gas stove in my kitchen, I remained well-nourished. Still, my patience and survival skills, like those of others all over the state, were put to the test.

I hated the cold, of course, but I really struggled with the loss of electricity at night. With no TV or radio, no light to read by and the inability to use of my digital devices at will, I was (quite literally ) at a loss. If it hadn’t been for a couple of flashlights and the occasional calls and texts from friends (checking in on me), I would have gone stir crazy!

Fortunately, my personal ordeal lasted just three days. It could have been worse. Much worse. And, for many, it was!

While “roughing it” in Houston, I kept wondering how bad things were in Galveston and how my island neighbors were doing. As it turned out, their cold, dark days were even more challenging than mine and spanned even more long days and nights.

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Neighbors on my street here were great about keeping me updated on how they were faring and the status of their homes - and The Bungalow. My next door neighbor, Jim, took it upon himself to make sure my place would fare as well as possible. He shut off the water and wrapped exposed pipes at The Bungalow, just as he had done at his own home. Jim also ventured out in the freezing weather numerous times and walked in and around my property to see if anything tragic was happening. And, finally, Jim let me know (as soon as he realized it) that some pipes under the house had, despite his efforts, broken.

As unfortunate as that news was, the early notification was a Godsend. It allowed me to call a local plumber to schedule repair work right away.

View of street in front of The Bungalow, taken from my next door neighbor’s home. As she reported, the “white stuff” is ice, not snow!

View of street in front of The Bungalow, taken from my next door neighbor’s home. As she reported, the “white stuff” is ice, not snow!

Today, my son, Matt, and I were finally able to return to the island and meet with Marcos who was at The Bungalow finishing up the tasks at hand. He led us around the property, showed us where the problem areas had been. In all, about a dozen pipes had cracked. Luckily, all were situated under the house, so there were no leaks or damage inside the house. (Gotta love a century-old Craftsman built on a pier-and-beam foundation!)

I knew the scrubs around The Bungalow would have been adversely affected by the Winter Storm Uri, but I was taken aback by the sight of my beloved oleanders in the front yard. All their beautiful green leaves had been replaced by ugly brown ones. Clearly, they will need to be dug up and replaced or pruned down to the ground so new growth can sprout forth near the roots. (Deciding which way to go will be a decision for another day!)

Alas, I really loved my pretty pink oleanders, and I am mourning their loss right now. At the same time, I am giving thanks for the survival of the boxwood hedges, colorful pansies and the 100-year-old live oak tree in the front yard, as well as the fig tree, crepe myrtles and palm trees in the back.

Looking at the lush, green “survivors” makes me smile - as always. But, today, more than ever!




The Mourning Wave

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The Mourning Wave: A Novel of the Great Storm, was released in September. Shortly afterwards, a copy was gifted to me by a friend who knew how much this book would be of interest to me.

William B. Murney, circa 1899. Photo courtesy of Rosenberg Library

William B. Murney, circa 1899.
Photo courtesy of Rosenberg Library

The Mourning Wave was written by Gregory Funderburk, a native Houstonian, former lawyer and, now, a minister at South Main Baptist Church in Houston.

Reportedly, Funderburk had been thinking about the Great Storm of 1900 for decades. As a child, he went to Galveston often with his family on vacations. He remembers staying at a hotel near Gaido’s and The Seawall one night during a terrible rainstorm. He recalls watching the storm and envisioning, even then, what it must have been like to be on the island that fateful night in 1900.

According to Funderburk, thoughts of the Great Storm stayed in his head for years before he set out to write this book.

The Mourning Wave recounts the frightening moments and hours of September 8, 1900, when the most deadly storm in American history made landfall on the beaches of Galveston Island. It tells the story and enormous challenges of three young boys as they struggled to survive the storm that destroyed their home, St. Mary’s Orphan Asylum, and killed all of its other inhabitants.

The surviving orphans were Will Murney, 14; Albert Campbell, 13; and Frank Madera, 12.

The book introduces readers to these and other real-life characters, as well as local and national historic figures on the scene during that time. It relates powerful recollections of the storm survivors — about their own struggles to survive, about their heartbreaks over the thousands of lost souls and about their shock and acceptance of the destruction of their homes, their city and their very ways or life.

At the same time, and importantly, The Mourning Wave offers guidance for anyone facing grief, uncertainty and anxiety in the aftermath of a tragedy. (So timely as our world continues to deal with the COVID-19 pandemic.)

The Mourning Wave asks an important question: Can moments of beauty and redemption arise from chaos in a storm-driven world?

Children, nuns and priests on the steps of St. Mary’s Orphan Asylum, circa 1892. Photo courtesy of Rosenberg Library

Children, nuns and priests on the steps of St. Mary’s Orphan Asylum, circa 1892. Photo courtesy of Rosenberg Library