Pie Town

In an earlier post, I should have given a shout out to Pie Town, New Mexico.

Pie Town is, without doubt, my favorite town in the state.

The name is totally honest.  There was no great explorer named "Pie".  There were no original settlers named "Pie."  There isn't even a local mountain peak named "Pie."

Still, back in the day, there was a crusty entrepreneur who baked up a business based on the concept that cowboys wanted pie.  It was on a major route for the cattle drives of the day.  The location was perfect, near the continental divide but far from much else.

(In my mind, I have a scene from a western movie where a gunslinger swaggers into the establishment, leans on the bar, and says "Gimme some apple, straight up with whipped cream.  And make it a double.")

Later, the cattle trail became US 60, which was the major route across the southwest until it was outstretched by Route 66, which began to die when I-40 skirted the towns that many Americans now romance over.

Many of the old Route 66 towns died.  Pie Town survived it's predecessors, because... hell, there's nothing like a good piece of pie.

... ... ...

I swiped my Green Chili Pinon Apple Pie from the Pie Town Cafe.  It is, without a doubt, the best damn apple pie recipe in the world.

A little advice... if you're planning a trip to Santa Fe or Taos, screw it and go to Pie Town.  Santa Fe and Taos are essentially copies of each other, but there's only one Pie Town.

Fridge Pics Unfrozen

Here in America, we are lucky to have pictures that frame our past in memory.

Men on a girder in NY ... Dorothea Lange's "Migrant Mother"... MLK.

But sometimes, the pictures that aren't historic in the public sense but are iconic of our country on a personal basis end up stuck on refrigerator doors.  I think that these would greatly improve our sense or history... they are personal, but they reflect larger images of who we are as a people,  They make us look both inward and outward.

,,, ,,, ,,,

When Dad died, I flew to Oklahoma.  When I got there, I took two pictures of pictures stuck to his fridge...

I look at these and I see an old Kansas farm boy hugging his adopted grandottter from China, I also see his vagabond son (me), his son's wife from Chicago, and again, the grandotter.

(The doggie footprint magnets are purely a stroke of luck.)

... 

Over the past 20 odd years, I've avoided returning to my home town in Oklahoma. I'll include the details in future posts, but to put it simply, we weren't in Kansas anymore... at least most of us weren't.  The town had changed.  The people had changed.  

Still, Dad maintained his place somewhere over the rainbow.

As for me, I'm still watching blue birds fly. For that, I will always owe my father thanks.

Black Birds on a Gray Day

The birding community seems to think that the best days to take pictures of black birds are days flooded with sunshine.  On those days, the black bird's feathers flame with iridescence.  These folks seem to be searching for rainbows when the birds are, in fact, black.

Albedo, folks, drives the natural world.  Why would a black bird be basking in the sunlight only to become hotter than hell?  Instead, they seek the shade on sunny days to stay cool, preserve energy, and sit it out.

Today, on the other hand, was cloudy and cool, and a Congress of Ravens frolicked on our woody knoll.  They were soaking up what little sunlight could be soaked through the clouds. Ravens, like most Corvids, are highly intelligent.  They take advantage of nature as nature offers them advantages.

Thus, on the day after Black Friday, I stayed close to home with birds that appreciate thermodynamics,

Bird watching beats the hell out of shopping, and if you can throw in a little bit of natural history and physics along the way... well... that's just fun.

This is home...

For every family, there is a place that draws us closer together.  We may not have been born there, we may not have resided there, we may not have died there, but it is central to the viewshed of our lives.

The "A" may be washed out in the photo above, but this is where we're from. Granted, my brothers and I were not 'from' Larned, Kansas, but our parents lived there, loved there, married there, moved from there to points across the country, then returned there after they passed.  

In and of itself, the water tower is an icon of the Great Plains for many people, but this one stood guard over other icons of my family's past.

The water tower glimpsed at downtown.  I do not remember ever seeing a movie at the State Theater, but I do remember it's red brick facade fronted by a red brick road.  (The photo is modern, the brick's been painted over, and asphalt covers the road... but it still brings back memories.)

At a closer angle, the tower looked down upon the "Cave House".  At first, the place was a quarry for native stone.  Soon after, a cave was excavated to store ice from the Pawnee River.  An underground house was built on top of the cave.  As my family took walks from my Grandmother's house to the park by the river, my brothers and I marveled at it as a place of deep secrets and wonder.

Below the Cave House and the Water Tower, the football stadium welcomed all.  I don't know if Dad played football in this stadium, but I have an imaginary memory of my mom sitting in the bleachers and cheering as Dad made a critical tackle or the touchdown pass.  This may not be true, but memories do not have to be true to be important.

In the midst of it all, there was this...

Grandma's house...

Where she stood on the steps waiting for us to arrive or depart...

Where she'd be in the kitchen before dawn cracked to make unbelievable buns and noodles for lunch... between the dining and living rooms, there was a grate that rose from the basement broiler that would burn your feet if you dared to step on it..

Where the basement had chambered windows looking up to the sky... during my childhood, my Aunt and one of her husbands remodeled the basement.  Later, another aunt lived there...

Where out back there were two garages, each holding a Chevy Bel Air.  According to family lore, Granddad never let Grandma drive her's much, so it sat in the side garage, gathering dust until my Dad restored it decades later...

Where, after they'd left the farm, she and Grandad boarded out the upstairs rooms. When we were kids, there were still rough ropes by the windows with hand written instructions about how to climb out the windows if there was a fire.  (And of course, there were attic closets stowing Halloween clown masks from my Dad's childhood... they scared the hell out of my brother's and I)...

Where my brothers, Dad and I would play pickup football on the lawn, and during the summer we would sit on metal gliders on the front porch and talk about relatives whose names I barely recognized...

Where on Christmas I received my first bicycle (I still don't know how Dad smuggled it up from Oklahoma, but I like to think that he bought it the day before at Alco's in downtown Larned),,,

Where Grandmother grew peonies and tomatoes in the garden and overwintered geraniums in the kitchen and on the the back patio (sometimes on top of a cabinet that my great grandfather built. Attached to the shelf of the cabinet was a hand-cranked meat grinder that Grandma used to prepare my aging Grandfather's food. Restored, the cabinet now sits in my house, and geraniums overwinter there)...

And where everything looked, smelled, tasted, and felt like a Grandparent's house should look, smell, taste and feel... 

Like home.

Thanksgiving 2

A gift for my father, who may not have liked Green Chili Pinon Nut Apple Pie, but he would have loved the fact that all of his sons found their own way... his life took him south from his home town. Our lives have taken us north, south, east, and west from our home town.

Compass Roses matter.  Family matters.  Pie and family and directions matter.

And I'm sure that if Dad had tried a piece of this pie, he would have liked it because he loved his sons.  He may not have eaten it, but he still loved his sons.

Thanksgiving

One of my brothers sent this pic out today...

We had a round of texts about what Dad was flipping off.... perhaps the crowd, perhaps the food getting cold, but I'll bet that Dad was caught in a bad moment and would rather have been watching football on TV.  (He was wearing an Oklahoma Sooners shirt.)

Note that he was at the head of the table.  I've always wondered if he was comfortable there, but he was our father, and that was his place.

Many thanks to my family and all that they have given me.

The Roaring Twenties

Thanks to Omegamom, my readership has jumped by almost 100 over the past two days.  Granted, I started off Sunday night with less than 300 reads, and most of the new reads came from a single person (me, checking grammar), this may not seem like much of an accomplishment.

For the time being, I'm more than happy to play the percentages.

...

So on to tonight's topic.

During the weekdays, I sneak off from the office, grab a sandwich, and listen to the current week's offerings of Podcasts.  It is my mid-day bureaucracy break.  (And yes, one word in that last sentence explains why I need a break.)

My absolute favorite podcast is 99% Invisible.  Visit the website.  Listen to the podcast. (Contribute!) It's all about design and how design has shaped our history and influences our daily lives.  It is all ultra-cool and reminds all of us nerds how ultra-cool we are too.

99% Invisible is part of Radiotopia, which is pretty much Nerd Nirvana.  (Yes, Nerd Nirvana exists, and yes, this is it.)

The podcast I listened to today was about Architectural Acoustics, and it ended with a shout out to The Roaring Twenties.  If you're a map nut like me, you'll love the website.  If you're a design nerd, you'll love the website.  If you're into how multimedia can effectively convey history, you'll love the website.  Moreover, if you're into things that are real and important, then you'll love the website.

No, it's not a direct part of my story or of my trips, but it weaves together the fabric of America in a totally unique way.  Navigate through New York and find Coney Island.  Look for the clown with the squealing pigs.

Boring a Teenager

Yesterday, I took Omegadotter out in the yard to take some bird pics.  She found our outing to be less than exciting...

Still, I gave the Kid my extra Nikon.  She loves to take pictures with her phone, and my hope is that someday soon she'll realize that she has a real camera.  She may not become a photonut like me, but at least she has the opportunity.

Blue Bird on a Wire

Nailed it!

We had a cold front move through.  I thought that the change in weather would make the Flickers more active, and they were.  The problem with Flickers is that they flick.  Moreover, they flick before I can click.

As I sat waiting for a Flicker to stop his damn flicking, I heard an all too familiar call, and I turned around and there was this kid... reminding me that sometimes you only see what you are looking for after you've stopped looking.

Look Closer

New Mexico is a nexus of many landscapes.  The Chihuahuan Desert creeps in from the south, the Colorado Plateau dominates the west, and the Rocky Mountains make their last gasp by diving in from the north.

The eastern half of the state is special.  It is the southern end of the Great Plains. It is dissected by many great rivers that begin as trickles in the mountains.  The land is incredibly diverse with prairies, canyons, mesas, and volcanic fields.  It is, perhaps, the most spectacular part of the Land of Enchantment.  But most people never really see the plains.

This is for two reasons.

First of all, while mountains and mesas are scenic, from an ecological standpoint they are relatively simple... alpine, sub-alpine, forests, then foothills. Beyond the foothills, the land becomes flat. People love jagged topography.  They can drive through at 70 miles per hour with a sense of wonder at the topography.  But the plains aren't that way.  At 70 mph, they simply look flat.

Secondly, our corridors through the plains confound our appreciation of the plains. Engineers design our highways through the flattest parts of the plains (avoiding the mesas, valleys and other wonders) where construction costs are low, the roads are straight, and from the inside of a windshield, 70 miles per hour seems slow.  This is a terrible tragedy because you can't see the world when you are protected by glass at high speeds.

Thus, folks whiz through the Plains thinking there's nothing out there.

Gawd they're wrong.

Think about it... a car has one windshield, one steering wheel, one gas pedal, and one brake pedal.  (1+1+1+1=4)

People have two feet, two hands, two eyes, two ears, and a pair of nostrils. (2+2+2+2+2=10)

The math is simple.  If you get our of your car and walk around, you are two and a half times more likely to see the world.

And you have to walk, feel, look, listen, hear and smell to appreciate the vast beauty of the Plains.

Earlier this week, I wandered through the plains of Northeastern New Mexico.  As cars sped by with high hopes of enjoying the mountains, I got off the beaten track and walked around.

While the human 'turkeys' were 'loping' down the highway, I made some friends that they'll never know.

2+2+2+2+2=10.

A perfect 10 in the natural world.  

You'll never achieve that through a windshield.

Omeggadotter and Her Dog

A few years back, I made a deal with Omegadotter that if she did well enough at the Alaska State Gymnastics Competition, she could pick out our new dog.  This was a questionable decision as a parent... during the competition it was clear that she had the dog on her mind more than sticking it on the vault.  Still, she did great at the meet, and in the end, she chose a great dog.

This dog is my daughter's best friend.  Sometimes a parent get's lucky.  No, she didn't go on to gymnastics stardom (though she could have).  Instead, she made a friendship that will live in her memory.  Gymnastics medals hang on her bedroom wall, but this dog lives in her heart.

Which is better, a gold medal or a great dog?  

My money's on the dog.

Brighter Shade of Blue

My Universal Rule of Photographing Pinon Jays:

1. Pinon Jays are splendid when they are in flight.  
2. I am always driving when I see a Pinon Jay in flight.
3. At such times, my camera will be on the car seat beside me with the power off and the lens cap on the wrong lens.

So... a guy learns to think...

No, it's not the best picture.  Yet it is a picture of Pinon Jay in a Pinon.  

Habitat matters, thus the bird in its namesake tree.  While a bird soaring in the sunlight with its feathers bluer than the sky would be nice, it is out of context. Pinon Jays spend most of their time in Pinon Trees.

I'm happy to catch one of these guys at home.

Vanity

One of the things that makes me proudest of my daughter is that she always wants to go her own way.

Neither Omegamom nor I invest much in how our personal space affects us.

Omegadotter does.

Omegadotter constructed this vanity that looks out on the mountains, her school, her world inside and outside of this house.  These are all great things, but when she looks in the mirror, she see's herself. 

It takes a lot of courage to look yourself in they eye.  It takes humility, pride, and introspection.

Go Girl!

Halloween

For the first time in many years, I did not make a ginger-bread, rice-crispies treats, Halloween concoction.  The family no longer seems to be into it, and it's no fun if it's just a me thing.

Still...  I took the holiday seriously.