Urban poetry

Not so urban a sight anymore, perhaps -- big cities have mostly buried all the lines underground -- but I like how the crisscross of these wires in Graham are almost abstract against that gloomy sky.

I did finally get the missing duffel bag, by the way.

Sunday bird blogging

Surprisingly, there will be bird blogging.

I had some time to kill yesterday morning. I had to pick up photos at Walmart at 11, and I couldn't stand sitting around the bland Best Western hotel room any more, so I went out for a cup of coffee, and drank it sitting on a park bench. The air was thick and damp, with low gray clouds threatening rain or worse, but I stayed until swarms of black ants converged on my feet and started crawling over my shoes.

A few blocks from the park, I saw a store called the Cherry Street Antique Barn, and I stopped. There wasn't much that interested me -- some nice pieces of furniture, walls of cowboy boots, Texas curios, and a lot of junk. I asked about old pictures and the owner only had one -- she said people come in and buy them by the boxes (undoubtedly so they can be sold for exorbitant prices at flea markets in the Northeast.)

But Susan, the owner, also had this bird, a juvenile mockingbird almost ready for release. She does a lot of bird rehab, and she told me stories about trying to care for injured buzzards and I told her about the Wild Bird Fund and birding in Central Park. Of course she knew about Judy -- everyone in a small town like Graham knows about everyone else -- but mostly we talked about birds and cowboy boots and the morning that had seemed to stretch out almost to infinity earlier was over before I knew it and it was time to go to Walmart.

Graham

The gazebo in the Graham town square.

I'm back in Texas for the funeral, so there will be limited blogging this weekend. I took this picture last month; it's gray and drizzly in Texas today, and my long drive from DFW took place under black clouds and white skies, like a photographic negative of what a sky should be.

Sunday bird blogging

The peculiar profile of an African goose, at Fireman's Park in Graham.

Like most geese I've encountered, this bird was neither quiet nor well-behaved. Not satisfied with terrorizing the other birds in the vicinity, he came after me, squawking threats at high volume. I've been bitten by geese before -- those big beaks bite hard -- so I retreated. Quickly. 

Very quickly.

The Square

I like these pictures in an old-style black and white. The square in Graham -- America's largest! -- keeps the old buildings and the original facades and turns them into new businesses.

Sunday bird blogging

There are lots of hawks circling these Texas skies, but that's where they stay, up high, out of camera range.

So here are some more cooperative Texans: three pretty Pekin ducks at Fireman's Park in Graham yesterday.

More roots

Graham is also where Judy's parents met. My grandfather worked for an oil company, and the family lived in Graham for a while before being transferred up to the Panhandle. Kenneth and Loraine were 14 and 13, and their first date, in 1939, was at the movie theatre above.

A few years later, when they married, they lived in the apartment on the right.

Roots

Although my cousin Judy grew up in the Panhandle, in the same town where my grandmother lived when I was growing up, her father's family has a long history in Graham. This boot and saddle repair store on the main street was once her great-grandfather's paint and wallpaper store.

More longhorns

Texas Longhorns

Every morning at 9 am, the guests at the Wildcatter Ranch have the option of feeding the longhorns. Their pasture is down by the road, so I'd already passed them several times going back and forth to Graham, and I was glad for an opportunity to get a closer look.

As is so often the case when food is involved, these magnificent, stern animals made absolute fools of themselves slobbering all over us and did everything but lick our faces to get more molasses pellets.

Also, they're not very bright and you have to be careful not to get whacked in the head by those horns, as they tend to be a little reckless about waving their heads around when they're begging for more treats.