How Sunken Boot Got Its Name

BY:  LYDIA BRANDT (BEEKEEPER/CO-OWNER)

On a chilly Feb. 2002 morning, Don, his puppy Moses, and I drove from Dallas to the 54 acres, which I had recently bought in Blue Ridge, TX.  We had contracted for dozer work to fill and sculpt an eroded area way back in the NE corner of the property. 


The week before it had rained, and with the deluge, the newly dug pond was half-full.  We left the truck near the county road to avoid --  once again -- having to ask a neighbor to pull our truck out with chains, and walked to the back of the land to check out the dozer work.
 
The sculpted area looked solid, so I walked on it. "Oh, no!" I sank into the Blackland Prairie, which clenched my boots in a vise grip. “I can’t move my legs!”  I clawed in the wet earth around the outsoles of my boots hoping to free them, but ice-cold water and clay soil flooded back. 

Don to the rescue!  He sank too.  Moses barked happily, racing around-and-around both of us as Don's arms and mine flailed the air for balance. Moses thought we were playing with him. Don jokingly asked: "You think Bob can tie a chain around us and pull us out?"  

I switched to tugging and tugging at the top of the boot shafts.  The right boot released, but the left boot remained hostage with my foot still in it!  Laughing uncontrollably, I crawled out on hands and knees, abandoning my left boot to the clutches of the sticky earth.  Don got unstuck too.  Muddy, wet, and cold, we headed back to the truck with Moses leading the way.

Cityslickers wrestled the Blackland Prairie.  Prairie won.  But the boot in the muck gave the land its name:  Sunken Boot!

 

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