Austin360 blogs > Out & About > Archives > 2008 > November > 29 > Entry
Reborn as Texans at the Waits Farm
What kind of people invite strangers into their homes?
I’m not talking about the lady who asks the wilted salesman into her sitting room for a cool glass of water (in itself, an act of social bravery). Or, on the other end of the investment spectrum, the couple who adopts an errant child for life (soon, they are no longer strangers).
Rather, I’m interested in those who set aside parts of their homes for travelers. The most familiar of these social innkeepers tend those odd, in-between phenomena known as beds and breakfasts. Marsha and Clayton Waits operate, instead, a farm and festival.
The Waits call their rustic spread a land of “never-ending projects and possibilities.” By the dint of their creative energy, they have transformed a pack of utilitarian farm structures into cottages, bunk houses, an art barn and a party barn. These are decorated with Marsha’s idiosyncratic, recycled art projects and surrounded by Clayton’s imaginative, fecund landscaping, which includes an herb garden, koi pond, wedding chapel/shed, two-story performance stage, drum room in an empty metal container, campfires, game lawns and a stone labyrinth. The party barn includes a capacious, if dimly lighted kitchen, cafe seating and tables for poker, pool and shuffleboard. Games and music abound.
It’s the really the Waits, not the party facilities, that make the place. Quiet, perpetually smiling, Clayton vaguely resembles former Texas A&M couch Dennis Franchione in overalls. Intrepid, constantly laughing Marsha stokes social possibilities with a husky voice that could compete with Lauren Becall’s. They never intruded on my family’s privacy — if 25 gregarious people can claim privacy — but they dropped by to build fires, talk Texas and even invite their friends from Sam Houston State University days, Dewitte Lindsey and Johnny Rowling, to perform cover songs in the party barn, a gig that my family at first watched passively, then joined enthusiastically. (Lindsey, whose timbre and note-straddling resembles Johnny Cash’s, really blossomed late in the evening singing show tunes by the campfire.)
One minor, but telling observation: As the holiday progressed, my family’s urban and suburban accents deepened into primal country twangs. This was no dude-ranch transformation, but an honest reaction to the human ecology. I would never advise scratching a Texan, but socially soothe one on the Waits Farm, and native soil blossoms.
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By Elizabeth Mills
November 30, 2008 7:41 PM | Link to this
As always, you are word perfect! Thank you for the suggestion! We are in love with the Waits! Certainly not for all families but I feel truely blessed to be a part of THIS family!