Ballad of the Bluebonnet House

Where Highway 281 hums low,
And marble hills in sunlight glow,
A house of stone stands still and proud—
Its voice is wind, its cloak a cloud.

They call it Bluebonnet, kissed each spring,
By flowers born from winter’s wing.
But deeper still its story lies,
In Logan's hands and Texas skies.

Logan Vandeveer, soldier, son,
Fought for freedom, rode with none
But courage, grit, and frontier flame—
He carved a life, he made a name.

He built this house with honest stone,
A ranching heart, yet not alone.
His family near in Burnet stayed,
Where schools and townsfolk gently laid.

And though the years would take their toll,
The house remains, a weathered soul.
Its bones still breathe of cattle trails,
Of storms endured and settler tales.

Now bluebonnets, soft and bold,
Return each year to stories old.
They crown the steps, they bless the land—
A floral prayer for Logan’s stand.

So if you pass this house one day,
When spring has chased the frost away,
Pause and hear the silent cheer—
For Texas, home… and Vandeveer.