junk

After the farm fails and the barbed wire rusts away, what's left? We've seen before that once people and their things leave a place, their plants remain. We've seen that most notably in the springtime daffodils next to the foundation of ruined cabin. Except for the daffodils, I would have walked right by the cabin.

. . .

Big Springs is thick with history. We spent a long weekend there in late May, staying in one of the CCC-built cabins on the ridge above the spring branch, and eating dinners in the lodge overlooking the water. We did as close to nothing as possible. No TV. Almost no radio, although oddly enough, the Rev. Larry Rice has a station just down the road.

. . .

The carcass of old car, a '60 Fairlane perhaps, sits in the middle of a dry creek bed a short distance south of the Victoria Glades parking lot. There are two ways to get there. If it hasn't rained recently, follow the creek bed. Otherwise, pick your way down a faint path leading off south from the parking.

. . .

I'm surprised the legislature hasn't declared the state tree to be the power transmission tower. They seem to be everywhere, no matter where I go. If I don't run across the big, high-volatage kind (click thumbnail), then I'm bound to cross the little, one-pole type.

. . .