It’s hard to remember, while we’re living in this almost surreal display of wildflowers and jungle-like lawns, that this time last year, many of us were glued to the wildfire maps. The three years before this one were a gradual slide into a deep drought that culminated in fires, dried up tanks, dead livestock and homes destroyed. This wouldn’t be the first time Brown County has experienced a notable drought, and it probably won’t be the last. Drought sometimes permanently changes an area, for better or worse, and now we have some rain, it feels safe to talk about droughts.

This drought, in 1894-5, was the catalyst for the creation of Lake Brownwood, something we were glad to have last summer. “Interest in an irrigation dam below the confluence of Pecan Bayou and Jim Ned Creek first arose during a serious drought that afflicted the area in 1894 and 1895,” according to BrownCountytexasgeneology.com, but the project was not approved until 1928. The Brown County Water Improvement District states, “First record of discussions of a dam on the Pecan Bayou occurred in the 1890’s. In his diary, Leecy Watson says the discussions began in 1890 with financing to be provided by “British capitalists”, but all plans collapsed with the “panic” (financial) of 1892. T. R. Havins in his book “Something About Brown” says the first discussions took place in 1894-1895.”

In an interview with William L Day of Bangs I found in a stack of old papers I have on loan, the carnage to a sheep herd caused by the drought of 1884-85 was described. “William L Day was one of the pioneers bringing sheep to this cow country. Sheep had to stay under herd, which was different than cattle. Day had 1,200 Merino ewes, and before long they had 400 lambs. […] Day lived in a tent near Santa Anna and plowed a small field with oxen. The big drouth of 1884-5 put Day out of the sheep business. The few waterholes left were claimed and usually owned by some cowman and unavailable to sheep. There was no grass anywhere near, and what few of his flock lived on weeds finally died of thirst.”

Because of a drought, a lake was formed, a herd was lost, and doubtless thousands of other enterprises and projects have risen and fallen based on whether it rains. Last year a rancher paid dearly for a bale of hay, shipped in from out of state while Texas burned. This year, the grass is belly high everywhere you look. It’s part of the up and down rhythm of life itself, I guess. We learn from the hard times and get to appreciate the good, and this year is a good one. There must be literally thousands of different wildflowers just alongside any road you pick. Even at Walmart, one of the ugliest places in the world, there’s a field next to it that’s lit up like a divine highway with golden flowers waving into lines of pure color. All these flowers, after a year like the previous one, seem to say bad times, no matter how bad they are, are never going to last forever.

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Diane Adams is a local journalist whose columns appear Thursdays on BrownwoodNews.com