On Highway 50 West of Pueblo

Just six miles west of Lamar stands the Star School (1899). The Historic Restoration Company seeks funding to restore the school. To donate, visit their web site.


Mist covered my view of the Cheyenne Mountain (top), while on the Broadmoor Lake Black Swans paddled along, past ice-covered trees, presumably toward their breakfast ground.


I did not allow myself to zoom past the Pueblo Weisbrod Aircraft Museum, no matter how longingly I yearned to find myself wrapped in Mr. Mallory's arms. On Highway 50 just east of Pueblo, the aircraft museum is easy to find -- and well-worth visiting. The exhibit is exquisite with items from every war in which the US men have fought. To honor these men, their loved ones have either donated or loaned the museums their military paraphernalia, such as complete uniforms, medals, swords, personal weapons, and even cigarrette lighters. Passionate veterans of the military run the museum, and as I strolled in the hangar accompanied by my guide, ninety-one year old Herman Gerres, I could perceive the fervor with which they brought together this museum. See their web site at http://www.pwam.org

Rudy's fully-restored 1944 Stearman sits unobtrusively yet impressively in a corner of the museum's hangar. Rudy has raised close to two million dollars on behalf of the museum.


Dog Tag stamping machine.


Herman stands next to the intervalometer. Inside, human crosshairs aide the airman in his accuracy.


Photo of Herman's plane and fellow airmen. He stands far right.


The exhibit explains the history of the Tuskegee Airmen.


Display of US Air Force bases in England during WWII.


Herman glimpses through the cockpit door.


Glen and Herman were in charge today. Stop by to say hello.

Gnome BROaDMOORing

Outside the Hayden Hays gallery, I photograph the reflection of my legs on the window.

After Spencer Penrose died in 1936, his wife Julie gathered the carriages and other vehicles they owned, plus carriages owned by friends, to continue the legacy begun by her husband. The collection includes an 1841 Williamsburg Brougham used by William Henry Harrison during his inaugural parade, and an 1862 C-Spring Victoria owned by Chester A. Arthur.

Icon of Dallas

The red Pegasus, adopted in the 1930s as the logo for the Magnolia Petroleum Company, sits atop the Magnolia Hotel in Dallas.

Along the Way to Colorado Springs

Undulating hills on Highway 287 north of Dumas soon become a straight line northward.

A tire shop in Boise City displays the famous Pegasus sign used by the now defunct Magnolia Petroleum Company.

Cimarron County Courthouse built in 1926-8. Cimarron County is the western-most county in Oklahoma.

The Stage Stop on Main Street in Springfield, Colorado.

Gnome Ponders Composition

I quarrel with myself sometimes, in regard to my skill at art, specifically photography. As I learn to use my camera, I learn to compose a scene: What should develop first, an artful eye or mastery of one's equipment; and does ignorance of one's equipment necessarily curtail development in art?

Gnome Gone Hog for a While

Give me the quintessential freedom on the open roads afforded by a Harley, an American icon.

Gnome in Archer

I put some miles on the Z3 this evening by driving to Archer City. As I drove up to the main corner, I noted that the sun's rays lit the Spur Hotel nicely, and so I parked across the street for a quick photo. I hadn't noticed the two skateboarders practicing their agility on the porch of the hotel until I stood next to the car looking at the hotel. One of them called to me, "Hey, can you take a picture of us skateboarding?" I would anyway, so I took a sequence of them in action. Some of them turned out pretty well, and I emailed them to the skateboarders. One of the things they asked me about was a skateboard park. "Do you know the major?" they wanted to know. I could only encourage them to visit the big city of Wichita Falls nearby to use the newly-opened skate park.



Zooming down the highway I saw the sign pointing to the cemetery. I had to go there to photograph Will's mausoleum. He is long gone, but his presence is still strong, as if he were still alive and sitting next to me.

Gnome Intrigued by Inscription

On my way from the Adolphus to the Dallas Public Library I spotted a quintessential view of the city of Dallas. In the photo we see the Adolphus Hotel on the left (the beaux arts architecture) and the red Pegasus horse on the top right.


Photo of the pony "Penny's Worth" on the monument on the southeast corner (Commerce and Weatherford) of the Fort Worth Court House. The inscriptions interest me: "who watered his horse here" and "who saved the horse"; so I find myself elbow-deep in files looking at any mention in regard to the horse.

Gnome at Lunch with John Mark

John Mark walked up to the counter and slapped a penny and a nickel down. He smiled at the owner of the restaurant and then said, "I found these out by your trash bin. You are not minding your money very well." The owner smiled back at John Mark, took the coins and tossed them into the cash register without saying a word. I felt grateful to witness an act so small but with such a depth and implication that only with the passage of time will I fully comprehend it.

Golf Course

After a year or so of hard work by Brent and the others on his staff, the golf course has begun to look even more pleasant than before the renovations. Here I show hole number six with its new bunker.

Hole number thirteen has a wider chipping area. Now we can tee off from across the creek and land on turf, rather than in a bunker.

Soiree of the Year

We hosted a reception for the recently-founded literature and art magazine.

Fly fished with Sherry

In The Texas Panhandle

In addition to Native American artifacts, guns, automobiles, bicycles and art, the Panhandle Plains Museum exhibits items from its history in the oil field. Must see museum.http://www.panhandleplains.org/

Jacksboro

Found myself in the town of Jacksboro. I looked around to see some things I hadn't spotted before as I drove through.

Growling in Fort Worth

City of Fort Worth Old Town Charm

In 1892, Fort Worth's Woman's Humane Society erected the Horse Fountain. It sits on the corner next to the courthouse. Walking around it, I noted an engraved message honoring Samuel Benton Cantey (1861-1924) identifying him as a pioneer attorney and one who watered his horse at this fountain. The Horse Fountain was re-dedicated in 1999. Engraved on its side are the names of the people who made possible the restoration, including Marguerite Coburn who, it indicates, saved the horse.

N Scott Momaday

Bear, the poet, attended the Mayborn conference this month. Always charmed by the magic of his words.

Next Up: Gnome's Georgia

Sent my entry fee today to the Oklahoma City Concours d'Elegance in September. Feeling low-key and non-competitive, so I entered Georgia in the Driven class. Probably Cliff will move her up to Championship class, and then I'll feel some stress caused by my competitive spirit. I should curb that and enjoy the competition anyway! My Mr. Mallory has already agreed to attend with me, and good thing that he will be on my team: no one can buff a car as meticulously as he can to make it look perfectly shiny.

I entered Tex, too. I always feel up to entering Tex in competition. However, it becomes more difficult to win as time goes by, though, because I have to compete against the boys who buy a new Jaguar every year; so every time they simply drive off the show room floor and into their slot at the concours. Their car is impeccable, while mine shows a little wear here and there -- and that's the way it should be for one who loves her Jaguars. Well, maybe there won't be any brand spanking new Jaguars this year. Either way, no stress will be felt!

Out for a Spin on the Honda

One thousand fifteen hundred and fifty cubic centimeters of power: I sat on a Honda Valkyrie motorcycle this evening and rode as if on a cloud floating down the road. I'd forgotten what it felt like, the interaction of that machine and me, and the road and the wind displaced by the windshield, the wide berth allowed to me by gawking motorists when they see a woman on a large machine. I had forgotten how much I miss my husband on our road trips, all the motorcycles he had, and that this one was his last, so new when he died. At the fuel station I pretended my tears were caused by the wind.

Tom Danaher and the Jenny

They flew, determinedly, this morning against fourteen-mile per hour winds, Tom and the Jenny, both still as strong today as when they were younger.