Yellow-headed Blackbirds

So these guys show up all of a sudden, and then leave, all of a sudden, and I love them.

Archer County.

Blue and White Bluebonnets

Where once water was several feet deep, there grow bluebonnets.

TAMU website about bluebonnets includes mention of pink bluebonnets.

Electra Post Office Mural

    The sculptor, Allie Victoria Tennant (1892-1971), won in 1939 the commission from the Section of Fine Arts of the Department of Treasury to provide a mural for the post office in Electra, Texas. Tennant chose a triptych in bas-relief that would reflect the most relevant activities of the town, oil, ranching, and farming. Driving from Dallas to Wichita County in a Lincoln Zephyr, she spoke to everyone eager to discuss the area's history and culture with her.

An iPhone photo of a copy of the front page in 1940. 

The copy was shown to us by a lady who works at the newspaper in town. 

The facade of the building designed by Louis J. Simon (1867-1928). 

Our host's bus, MSU's Museum of Art, is reflected in the glass doors.

      Part of the facade shows a train, a plane, and a ship. The motif was designed back then by the Rodriguez brothers. The postmaster chose the theme of transportation, for Electra was built around a stop in the railroad line specifically to load cattle from the Waggoner ranch.

The bas-relief in 2015, a couple of decades after its restoration.

Friendly postmaster.

      Our lecturer, Dr. Light Cummins, explains the mural. Above him, the bas-relief shows Tennant's brothers as models, left to right, Ernest, Roger, and Tom.

Scale, original.

Delivery window.

Mail boxes.

     Dr. Cummins explained that most things in the Electra Post Office are original from the 1930s. When towns remain small, such as Electra, Quanah, they do not have the need to build a new, bigger post office. Hence, a historic building is extant, used every day, and appreciated. 

Bolton's Elevator at Dawn

Corydalis aurea, or Scrambled Eggs

Wilbarger County, Texas.

E34

Visibility: Clear from here to Timbuktu.

Winds: Howling.

Runway: Concrete in good condition.

Fuel: Unavailable.

                                      FBO: Combination did not work on the lock. Oh, well. 

     Looking inside the window, we saw that the airport is or was once active with instructors and students who left photos on the wall and the back of t-shirts cut after a first solo. The airport was quiet and had a sort of mood that led to contemplations about who is or was there, who soloed there from that beautiful setting just up from the edge of the escarpment in North Texas.

Limp Windsock

No wind? Nice time to fly.

Foggy Cows

Mallards Landing on Sikes Lake

Wild Grape Hyacinth on Old Iowa Park Road

      Update: I was not trespassing to take these pictures, standing perilously by the side of the road. Still, when a young man driving a tractor, pulling a trailer on which sat a woman, I felt queasy about a confrontation. Thankfully, the woman came over for a friendly chat. 

      Her name was Kathy Davis and that was her son driving the tractor. They were working on fixing up the house that stood next to the field of flowers. Davis spoke about the history of the property, saying that her family had owned it since 1910. The property includes Wichita Valley airport, which she said provided a nice revenue for her family. In the background of the top picture, one can see an old hangar, part of the original complex of buildings of the airport. Her mother had a house right there where the hyacinths grew prolifically, and that she was proud of her garden; unfortunately, they had to raze the house. 

      Mentioning to her that I had stopped by there after Lita had mentioned the lovely field, she recognized her name and said that their sons attended school together. I promised her to print copies of my images and put them in her mailbox, which I did a week later.

Foggy Sunrises over Rifle Range Road

Canola Field at Sunrise

A canola field outside Electra. 

Information about canola in Wikipedia.

Squirrel in a Box

     Living with squirrels means that occasionally I have to put down my book and watch their behavior in the trees. One squirrel decided to move into a bird box I placed between two tree trunks. Hopping in only when in rained, these days, the squirrel spends every evening in the box, and even moved in some soft material. It wouldn't surprise me if the material came from my neighbors' pool chair pillows.

Image-captures of squirrels can become endless. Here is one of a squirrel eating buds.

Lake Wichita

Old postcard-look for the lake as it looks this month. 

Sun Dog Through Window

Henbit

     Lamium amplexicaul is important for honey bees. And for humans, Wikipedia says that it is edible, with a peppery taste. When Lita mentioned that she enjoyed seeing the henbit, I stopped by for a quick shot and then printed a copy for her.

Cecily Maples

Cecily Maples' ceramics on exhibit in Lubbock. Exquisite work. Visit her on Etsy.

Poetry: Cold Bold

Twenty degrees Farenheit outside.
My fingers feel cold and painful.
I stare at my cockpit wondering
if my plane will start in this temp.

I wonder, too, if I should fly today

with the winds rushing from the north
at twenty-five knots gusting to thirty.
Is my decision to fly today dumb?

And how dumb? A saying starts

rattling in my head, There are bold
pilots and there are old pilots;
but there are no old bold pilots.

I blow warm air on my fingers,

my mind on the conditions of flight,
clear from here to the other side
of the skies but cold and windy.

Just another nice day for a pilot.

Sunny, no ice, no storms,
no lightning – is it a nice day
to fly with an old pilot, Beatrice?

I spot a car driving past my wing,

its occupant – a pilot, stares at me,
wondering, I’m sure, Why is she
flying in this temp, this wind?

Perhaps, I ponder, he’ll drive back

to tell me, Don’t go fly in this stuff!
The car makes a 180-degree turn,
stops by my wing. Its window

rolls down a little bit, revealing

a pilot’s eyes. Are you just sitting
in your airplane or are you gonna fly?
I was disappointed that he did not

tell me to go home, stay warm.

I opened my window and said,
I am actually going to fly, sounding
a bit bold to myself, a bit bold –

Really, I yearn for respect, I yearn
for other pilots to say of me, Damn she’s
a good pilot – and old, too, very old.
Then, he said, I’ll close your fuel door for you.

I wave from my cockpit, blushing –

look at my instruments as if
for the first time – and it is
the first time I will fly so cold, so bold.

Clear the prop – I say to no one.

They are all inside their offices
and homes warm, safe, sipping coffee
while I turn the key to start my plane

and manage my RPMs. My cellphone

lights up with a text from Beatrice.
Are we still gonna fly? she says from
her airport, fifty cold, windy miles away –

Yes, I reply, wondering about myself

being so bold this morning (so bold!)
hoping she will say, Let’s be old —
it’s too cold and too windy today –

She asks, Are you okay with these winds?

Why, yes, I say, surprised that I am
so bold yet still hoping she’ll say, Well,
I’m not. So don’t take off, don’t fly today.

It’s the computer in my plane –

it won’t come on, I say with glee.
The computer malfunction will
keep me on the ground – Give it

a few minutes, she says, it takes

a while in this temp to come on.
Monitors in my cockpit power up.
She hasn’t said to me, hey, let’s

not fly in this cold and this wind.

My cellphone lights up. Here it is,
I say to myself. She’ll tell me to stay.
Do you have a heater in your plane?
                                              - E B Hawley

Snowy Footprints on Concrete

By Helicopter, F14 to OUN