"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Songs of the Pioneers song from TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon's old-fashioned newspaper column, cross-breeding metaphors and journalism and art, for readers in 150 countries.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Saturday sightings

The back roads, wind generators on the rural horizon.
What stories are behind this sign on an old building
in Union City?
You just have to get out of the city as often as possible, and today's trip was southwest of Oklahoma City.
I call it going to Front Porch country, where older frame houses in the towns being swallowed by urban commuter sprawl still have porches and knickknacks and flowers galore in their yards, the opposites of the cookie-cutter subdivision house surrounding them.
Alas, I didn't take a photo of a front porch, but in visiting Mustang, Union City, Minco and Tuttle, you don't have to travel far before the city is behind you.

Three other photos I didn't take: Just outside suburban Mustang I saw a rooster and hens out in a green yard. And in Union City, a guy was sitting on his porch in a swing, enjoying the morning. In Tuttle, there was an old swing hanging from a big tree.

Outside Minco
Most of the trip was up and down the Old Chisholm Trail.

Flowers and flags
In Minco, there's an impressive veterans memorial I'll post about later. And flowers on Main Street and lots of flags.



I'm fascinated by old bank buildings which used to be the most substantial and first brick buildings in the new towns. 


Union City

Tuttle

Out in the country you see all kinds of things, including the divided boulevard west of Tuttle in the middle of a prairie leading to Braum's Dairy main plant. And lots of new wind generators on the horizon. Plus an old windmill that I just had to stop and take a photo of. Talk about school spirit.

These are the kind of roads and places where you can drive at 45 or 55 mph with the window town, enjoying the spring air, hearing the meadowlarks, looking at the changing wheat, and new hay bales, the red roses and other flowers booming in profusion. Too soon, it is time to turn back toward the city, rolling up the windows, speeding up for the Interstate madness of everyone in a hurry. 


At least, so far away is so close to get there, to breathe deep the open spaces.

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