I could spend hours in this shop finding angles for photographs. This shop serves one of the cattle ranches in Dumas.
Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .
Thursday, August 12, 2010
El Matador
In Dumas, in the Texan Panhandle, one can find some of the best food on Earth. Hunkering for home-made tortillas? Head for El Matador. The folks there know what to do with good tortillas. Nina, it happens, provides the tortillas that hold strips of chicken, perfectly seasoned and cooked, topped with other fresh ingredients, and served so hot it burns your fingers. Place a dollop of guacamole, if you like that, to embellish the taco. MyMrMallory said his enchilada tasted great, too.
Esfandiary Albany
Oh, you might jump into your car, or motorcycle, or horse, and head for Albany, Texas, on a whim, for some good cooking. As I sat at the Beehive waiting for my Fort Griffin burger (hold the cheese), hordes of workers streamed through the door.
I've always understood that large numbers of trucks parked outside a restaurant, or locals hanging around all day, or workers streaming in the door at noon determines inarguably the quality of the food and service at any restaurant, so, I beamed with expectation as I saw hungry people filing by my table.
The waitress greeted the river of men coming in obviously accustomed to this happenstance every day at around noon. "How many ya got, boys?" One, covered in soil hat to boots, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Don' know. Twelve mayb," and then watched her expectantly, as if familiar with the routine here, ready for her instructions on where to sit, in the front room, where I sat, or in the back room with the deer heads. She commanded him to sit in the back room. She commanded everyone. She knew how to guide the flow. She knew they felt hungry and she knew she would serve good food to fill their bellies.
I've always understood that large numbers of trucks parked outside a restaurant, or locals hanging around all day, or workers streaming in the door at noon determines inarguably the quality of the food and service at any restaurant, so, I beamed with expectation as I saw hungry people filing by my table.
The waitress greeted the river of men coming in obviously accustomed to this happenstance every day at around noon. "How many ya got, boys?" One, covered in soil hat to boots, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Don' know. Twelve mayb," and then watched her expectantly, as if familiar with the routine here, ready for her instructions on where to sit, in the front room, where I sat, or in the back room with the deer heads. She commanded him to sit in the back room. She commanded everyone. She knew how to guide the flow. She knew they felt hungry and she knew she would serve good food to fill their bellies.
This painting hanging above me seems to symbolize the restaurant: You need food and water, stop here, and dang, it's good to eat and drink after a long day's riding -- because you're hot and tired and because the food tastes good.
Here's the link to their website: http://www.fortgriffinandbeehive.com/index.html
Summer clouds in Texas along the way to Albany.
Hay in the sun.
Cows in the shade.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Camels in North Texas
Decades ago, Robert Hudson's liaisons flew to the outback of Australia, captured several camels, and shipped them to his ranch near Wichita Falls. One million dollars were made selling the offspring of these camels. His widow, an energetic and engaging woman whose love of camels has no end, continues to sell camels. The Museum of North Texas History hosted a lecture this afternoon on camels in North Texas.
This two-week old fellow greeted guests outside the MoNTH door.
In addition to looking beautiful, sensual, and soft, camel eyes have three eye lids. The three eye lids developed as protection to the eyeball from the powdery sands of the deserts.
Robert Palmer gave a characteristically engaging lecture, this one on the history of camels in the United States, beginning in 1836, and then going into the later half of the Nineteenth Century.
Leta encouraged the guests to enjoy drinking punch and mingling.
Releasing a Killdeer
Yesterday, Sunday, the Killdeer that had grown up at Wild Bird Rescue became a free bird. BirdManBob released her into the wind, but the Killdeer flew onto the grass. I was worried for a moment, but when the Killdeer began darting about the grass looking normal, and as she began chasing grasshoppers and other insects, I felt the familiar happiness of seeing a bird released back into nature.
Before releasing the Killdeer, BirdManBob held her against his shirt. I thought the background appropriate. It says, "Celebrate the Earth and Sky / Soar into the Wind / Let Your Spirit Fly." But the Killdeer seems to prefer to run around the grass and parking lots!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Jenny Flies Today
Larry reminded us that the Jenny, shown above with one of the volunteers, will fly today.
Coco (below) approves.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Early in the mornings, the breeze feels good, the climate feels good, and it feels good to sit with MyMrMallory, cup of java in hand, rather than go out there to take pictures. With no pictures in my camera, I sought for some images I took in the past. I continue to enjoy fiddling with single HDR images.
October sunrise in the panhandle showing a water mill and a light dusting of snow.
Mount Ararat. Post processing this image in HDR brought out some of the contrast.
I like this image of an Arab woman looking into a mosque.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Invigorating Scamp in the Countryside
MyMrMallory and I rode around with Andrew in his all terrain vehicle, the Rhino. I want a Rhino now. Rhinos can go anywhere.
Easily, the Rhino drove through this wheat field . . .
. . . and gathered wheat seeds as a combine would gather them.
We encountered several gates, most of which were creative in their method of latching.
Some gates required the wit and strength of two men to close.
We visited several lakes. I call this one Turkey Lake, for an American Turkey took flight as we approached.
Here I show a view characteristic of the Red River region.
There remains the abandoned barn. Note the corrugated zink, the wood underneath it, and holding it all up, the stones.
The barn may seem a bit crude in its structure, but at least it has electricity.
Recycle everything. A license plate nailed to the bottom of a doorway covered a hole in the wood.
Time and storms pass by.
Flowers remain prolific in the Texan countryside. (Yay.)
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin
JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.
Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.