Infrared Abstract, Unintended

 Some accidents look interesting, particularly in regard to art.

Infrared Hay Rolls

     A large number of hay rolls, gathered in 2012 after heavy moisture made the wheat unusually high, dwindled to only a half dozen this year. I stopped by with my infrared camera for a few images.

Bluebell Variant, White

Bluebells, A Study

Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells

      Closed in 1963, two Web sites share interesting history behind the Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, built in 1929 and closed by its owner in 196: Wikipedia, and the hotel site. 

      

Texas Bluebells

Prolific and gorgeous along the middle part of the state. 

An Impressive Cloud

Out of the Big Blue

     And one day, out of the blue, a letter appeared under our doors. To paraphrase: This building [this historic building] will be closed and locked by July 31st. My eyes blinked a few times, I swallowed, then read the letter again. I held confirmation in my hands.

     "You can't close the building by the end of the month!" a tenant shrieked on the fifth floor, supposedly, at the owner. But the owner did. Until I saw the letter, as I watched people carrying boxes out of the building, I couldn't believe anyone would act on only a shriek heard, allegedly, by someone in the elevator down the hall. A kind of Exodus began.

     Even MyMrMallory took action, he who refused to move, and found office space the very morning he read the letter.

     Finally, it sank into my head: We had to move out. We had to find other office space. And we only had four weeks so to do.
 
     Because, we were informed, the elevators could not be repaired.

Maps and boxes were brought out from the offices to crowd the hallway on our floor. 

Our maps, gently, though messily, placed in the back seat of my sedan.

Bob brought out more maps and more stuff to be packed. 

The moving company, Albert's, surrounded the building with large trucks. 

One of our movers told me that on July 30th, 

they loaded from seven o'clock in the morning to midnight.

   We had to buy boxes, bubble wrap, and wrapping paper. More boxes. More bubble wrap. The moving company brought more boxes and wrapping paper. We did very little for four weeks but pack, pack, and pack. 

      

    Only one elevator was in use during those four weeks, and could only be operated manually, to serve twelve floors of tenants moving out. With every trip, arms and dollies loaded with boxes, we had to phone one of the men downstairs to bring the elevator up to the seventh floor; and when we needed to go up, we waited in the lobby for the elevator to finally come down and be unloaded, piling stuff that crowded the small lobby area. 

    Desks, tables, chairs, filing cabinets . . . coming down with the elevator, its malfunctioning engine ever-present in our minds. At times, I had to go outside to take three deep breaths. 

     

   As I packed, I struggled to accept the historic building closing, but I comforted myself with the thought that someone, someday, would buy it and renovate it, turn it into an apartment building, or something like that, a Quixotic thought, perhaps. I longed to be in the countryside with my camera.

   At the same time, I felt elated to leave, for the maintenance was indescribably bad, and the maintenance crew surly in attitude. It was, I see in retrospect, as if a disdainful youngster found himself saddled with this building, as if saddled with an older relative, a member of the "greatest generation," and then left her to the uncouth, unreasonably reliant upon their concern to care for her. 

   The service was the least of the problems, for we all learned to live with it, somehow. It was the air circulating in the building, more significantly, that was not healthy. I stopped going to our offices years ago because I could not breathe. 

    Once a month, when I did go, I pointed to the black ring around the air vents in our offices, my face contorted with horror. "Really, we must move," I would say, knowing MyMrMallory would not undertake the inconvenience unless there was a catastrophe. And a catastrophe did occur.

We moved out of the First Wichita, known as the "Big Blue" . . . 

. . . into the diagonally opposed building, the City National, just as historic, 

but in contrast managed professionally. 

A fellow from the telephone company surrounded by wires 

as he installed our lines at the City National building.

iPhone photos.

    From our corner offices at the City National, we gaze now at the "Big Blue," its shiny facade reflecting under the sun, its color an attractive saturated blue that conceals the disaster within. I noted this with not much sorrow, but my sorrow deepened when I realized the gravitas of the loss to the city. 

   My thoughts drift often to the security officer who worked at the "Big Blue," a burly, sweet man, named Blue -- and by the size of him, he could also be called "Big Blue" -- for what will become of him? He made coffee every morning and at mid-afternoon, too; and he could tell the weather as well as an educated weatherman.  

   "Will it rain this week, Blue?" I would ask him, and he would mumble a "Yesh," or a "Naw," shake his sweet head, his white teeth sparkling in his smile, and resume reading the newspaper. It rained or it did not, depending on what Blue said.

   

   He was always kind to me, and cheerfully pressed the elevator button when he saw me walking through the front doors. So kind was Blue, that MyMrMallory reciprocated by taking the newspaper to him every day of the week.

    The local newspaper, Times Record News, published an editorial on Sunday, July 28th.

Update: 

     A wondrous project made me return to Big Blue. See Kevin Selle's website here: http://texomamoment.weebly.com.

          Inside the Big Blue, as I walked down the hall toward the mailroom, I could see on the floor a sheet of paper. I recognized it right away. My heart jumped. It was the letter written by Womble to his tenants telling us we had only thirty days to vacate, and that thereafter he would turn off the air and lock the building. I reached down to pick it up. The letter had foot prints on it. I don't recall what I did with my copy, though, knowing me, I surely tore it in half and tossed it. I had forgotten its harsh message.  See its image below: 

A Dog Having Fun

     In the dappled shade provided by a tall oak in my garden, the grass grows lush, and remains soft, moist, and cool, just enough for a little doggie to feel compelled to roll in it.

Leatherflower

Thanks to Wichita Valley, I come upon lovely flowers in my garden.

First Peach

       From my garden, I harvested one peach, pictured above, and two figs, all three of which somehow ripened in spite of the squirrels in the area.

Looks Like a Scarlet Gaura, Limpy

Formation Flying for Bob

     When invited to fly in the right seat of an aircraft that would fly formation, I emotionally dropped to my knees and pleaded with MyMrMallory to attend an appointment without me so that I could fly. All the groveling was unnecessary, of course, for he would have happily sent me on my way to the airport, but that is the extent I may reach to fly. Especially to experience something I have not before in my life.
     H.-P. flew his Piper Arrow Turbo, the Stallion, alongside Martin's Grumman, the Cheetah, and Jim's Cessna Skyhawk, the Frog. All they needed, I thought, was me in my Scissortail to bring up the rear.
     I sat in the world's worst position for aerial photographic documentation of the event. Still, I managed some images that showed the beauty of that flight, and came home hoping I had not disturbed H.-P. with my lens hovering near him.
     Watching H.-P. fly as part of the formation helped me to realize how difficult the process may be. He focussed intensely on the Frog's right wing, while at the same time he scanned his instruments. I have a deeper appreciation of the difficulties of formation flying.
     And how must have the formation of three looked to the bereaved attending the burial service 500 feet below us? I thought, everyone is crying harder now for their loved one, Bob, seeing this assorted crew of aircraft honoring the departed fellow. One sees military aircraft fly-overs, remarkable in their power and speed, impressive in their symmetry; here three good friends of Bob flew different airplanes at 80 knots to celebrate his life. That's one of the things flying is all about.

   Robert George Sturgis, Sr., 81, of Wichita Falls, passed away on Tuesday, July 23, 2013. Graveside services will be at 3 PM on Friday, July 26, 2013, in the Garden of Compassion at Crestview Memorial Park, with Rev. Harvey McMurry officiating. Arrangements are under the direction of Lunn's Colonial Funeral Home. 

   Robert, Sr., was born November 10, 1931, to George and Rosemary Sturges, in Staten Island, NY. He was married to Gladys Sturges for 50 years upon her death. He later was remarried to Sandra Sturges. Her large family came to care for him as a father and grandfather.

   Robert, Sr., was a member of the United States Air Force for 20 years and the Civil Service for 15 years as an instructor in jet engines. Following his retirement, he became a licensed pilot, ground, and flight school instructor and a licensed mechanic on light aircraft. He worked many years at Kickapoo Air Park. Robert, Sr., loved teaching, working on airplanes, and telling jokes. 

    Survivors include his wife Sandra of Wichita Falls, three sons, Robert J. Sturges, and wife Shirley, of Irving, Texas, Thomas Sturges, of Springfield, Missouri, and Larry Sturges and wife, Tena, of Lakeside City, Texas, his sister Marge McPherson of Lawrence, MA, eight grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. 

    In lieu of flowers, the family requests memorials be made to Hospice of Wichita Falls. 

A Cadet Earns His Pilot's License

    Cadet Crimson earned his Private Pilot's License this afternoon. He is a member of the Civil Air Patrol, and the first in his unit to earn a license.

Mary, the examiner, pins pilot's wings on his uniform.

Posing with Mom with the CAP plane in the background.

Signing the document.

Interview with KFDX.

Calves in the Shade

Have to wonder how long these batteries will remain upright with the erosion around them. Two calves take advantage of the shade in ninety-five degree temperatures, mild for these parts of Texas.

Summer Clouds and Grasshoppers

Grasshoppers sit on a t-post along a wheat field. 

To Re-visit Turner Falls

      This image I took in autumn of last year shows a place worthy of a re-visit, especially after the area received rain. Turner Falls Park.

Wide Angle Up Close

   I felt encouraged by AShepherdsHome to use my wide angle lens for close-up photography. Initial attempts point to a promising endeavor.

Sunflower Along the Highway

Messin' in Mankins

Mankins, Texas, is considered a ghost town.