Wildflowers

I30

Yesterday I went to the annual Arts Festival in downtown Fort Worth. It was much too crowded for me, and I was glad I’d only spent $5 on parking – although I did stay long enough to buy a wonderfully comfortable pair of handmade (by a father and son team from San Antonio) leather sandals.

Today I headed out on Interstate 30 towards Texarkana, into northeast Texas in search of wildflowers. They were plentiful, but you’ve seen enough pictures already. In northeast Texas, once you get off the beaten track, you’re in redneck country (especially as you get closer to Arkansas). How do you know when you’re in redneck country? Every town has a Dairy Queen, and it seems to be where the whole town gets lunch, so that the parking lot is always full of beat-up farm trucks; it’s often difficult to tell whether some of the houses are actually occupied, or gradually disintegrating around their owners; and most families cling doggedly to every truck or car they’ve ever owned, perhaps in the forlorn hope that the rusting hulks will one day be resurrected.

Once again, the weekend bikers are out. You can usually tell the weekend variety from the serious ones because no self-respecting hardcore biker would ever wear a T-shirt that said on the back: “If you can read this, the bitch fell off”.

Pawn shop

I went into a pawn shop for the first time, just out of curiosity. They’re everywhere here, and don’t seem to carry the same stigma as elsewhere. For me, it’s saddening to see the remnants of people’s lives up for grabs, knowing that they have probably been taken advantage of at a most vulnerable point in their lives. Pawnbrokers seem to occupy the same social strata as prostitutes, flop-house owners and fast food outlet proprietors: we’re glad they’re there to mop up the human detritus so we don’t have to, but we look down on them anyway. I’m sure they’re all very nice people. Society would certainly have trouble functioning without them.

I stopped for lunch at Sonic (how hypocritical is that!) and picked up a cheese Coney with onions and a vanilla shake (it’s ok because I had fresh fruit for breakfast). Shortly afterwards, as I was jotting down some notes, another car pulled up alongside me, and the driver wound down his window and asked: “Do you know how to get to the State Hospital from here?” As you know, I usually travel without a map, and so I replied, laughing: “I don’t know how to get to anywhere from here.” Fortunately, he detected my accent and saw the humorous side. A bit further down the road, I saw a sign to the hospital, and saw him making the turn in my rear-view mirror, so he must have made it.

Fate City Hall

I took a slight detour following the lure of a sign to the “city” of Fate. Where they get these names from I don’t know, but it was a tiny “city”, with one of the tiniest City Halls I’ve ever seen. I turned round in the parking lot of the “Fate Gas & Grocery Store” and got back on the highway, satisfied that I had seen all that Fate had to offer.

Finally, I had had to stop for a picture of a large model bull on a trailer, even though I have mostly become inured to such sights. I don’t know where he was bound for, but it’s the kind of thing you only see in America. I think subtlety must have fallen overboard during the Mayflower’s long journey to the New World.

The Chisholm Trail, TX

A couple of weeks ago I showed you a picture of the outside of the hotel I’m staying in. Thankfully, the inside is much nicer than the outside.

Embassy Suites outside ...

Yesterday I went to “Traders’ Village”, which is just a giant flea-market. It’s getting warm here, but luckily about half of it is under cover, so you’re not in full sun all the time. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular – rather just heading in the opposite direction to the Texas Motor Speedway, which is hosting a NASCAR event this weekend (and many of the participants and patrons are staying at the hotel: both the Jack Daniels team and the Jim Beam team, among others), so that the roads in that vicinity are naturally clogged with race-goers. But I still finished up with a nice leather belt and buckle – the buckle is inlaid steel, which the dealer let me have for $15.

... and inside

You’ve also seen the size of the car the rental company gave me this time – a Ford Explorer that I have to climb up into. Just in case you think this is big, I parked next to a truck outside the hotel yesterday. The best selling truck in America is a Ford F150; one step up from that is the F250; one more step takes you to the F350, pictured here, next to my comparably modest vehicle. One thing my car does have is a built-in compass. Armed only with this, you really don’t need a map. So today, I headed south – literally south. I just kept following roads that went south, to see where I’d finish up.

Ford Explorer

Barn sale

I took country roads wherever I could, because I’m still fascinated by the variety and beauty of the spring wildflowers (don’t worry – no more pictures!). I found a “barn sale” signposted down one of the roads, and found four delightful ladies manning a barn full of antiques and bric-a-brac. I bought two more belt buckles, at least as nice as the one I bought yesterday, for $5 each. So now I have a choice of belt buckles!

I stopped off at the Cotton Patch Café in Cleburne for some Texas-style cooking – meatloaf, mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas, washed down with a tall glass of lemonade. Meatloaf often gets a bad rap, but a good meatloaf is delicious – it’s all in the sauce!

Inevitably, I found myself back on Route 67, the old Chisholm Trail – I think I must have been a cowboy in a former life. I know this leads right back to Dallas. I was overtaken on the way by a biker in a furry crash helmet with large cow horns sticking of it, his long plaited hair streaming back in the wind. I tucked in behind him, hoping he might pull off somewhere so that I could get a photograph, but then Lucy called my mobile phone, and I lost him in traffic. But not before I pulled alongside him when the traffic slowed, and noticed he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. And moments before we were barreling down the highway at 80mph! Pretty neat trick!

The Chisholm Trail

Spring flowers

You folks are lucky – you only lost an hour of sleep on one weekend. I lost an hour two weekends running! This is because British Summer Time (BST) and Daylight Savings Time (DST) are very slightly different. If you’re at all curious about the whole history of this, take a look at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daylight_saving_time - and it doesn’t have anything to do the farmers, who insisted that it wouldn’t make any difference because animals can’t tell time! Apparently it was proposed as recently as last year that it be abolished, and there is even talk of Scotland becoming a different time zone – obviously, being so much further north, BST is more disruptive for them.

Ford Explorer

Embassy Suites

At least Hertz made up for it by giving me a shiny brand new Ford Explorer for this trip. But then Marriott put up their rates and couldn’t agree on a corporate rate with American Airlines, so I had to move hotels! I insisted on staying 3 nights at the Marriott, which gives me the 50 nights needed this year to maintain my “gold” status for next year! So I’ve moved to the Embassy Suites (part of the Hilton chain) – the picture below is actually taken from my room in the Marriott, so, as you can see, it’s not far away. I haven’t decided which I prefer yet. My new room does have a fridge and a microwave, and a separate lounge area. It also has a restaurant, with complimentary breakfast and happy hour every day. The pool is inside, but then I never went in the Marriott’s outdoor pool in 18 months of staying there! It’s also an architectural monstrosity that doesn’t seem to be able to decide whether it’s Spanish or modern.

In New England, the fall foliage is the big attraction, and the local TV news, newspapers and websites all report on the best places to see it in all its glory as the leaf colour-change advances through the area.

Bluebonnets

In Texas, it’s the spring flowers, which are just beginning to bloom in abundance in this part of the state. There’s a toll-free telephone number you can call to tell you which highways are the best to travel to see carpets of wildflowers by the roadside. To see some of them, visit http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/park/wildflower/, and there are a couple of pictures of two of the most prolific – the Texas bluebonnet and the pink evening primrose – below (both taken just outside my hotel). Towards the summer, sunflowers will be growing wild in profusion alongside most highways. The Texas Department of Transportation (http://www.dot.state.tx.us/) actually sows 33,000 pounds of wildflower seeds each year along 79,000 miles of state highways. The sight of such a huge variety of wild flowers (which, I have to say, put ours to shame, both in number and size) seems to contradict our traditional image of Texas as a vast barren desert landscape.

Primroses

 

The news here is very obviously biased away from what’s going on in the Middle East, and the death of the Pope, and the trials and tribulations of Charles and Camilla, provide the news media with welcome diversions. Because the church here is so much stronger than at home (and also because I’m in the middle of the “bible-belt”), the Pope’s death attracts huge coverage, even though the Americans are only too aware that there is no way an American cardinal will be elected to replace him. The Charles/Camilla fiasco is reported almost with glee, and I’ve heard on at least one occasion the British pre-occupation with pomp and ceremony referred to as “silly”. For a country that has no history to speak of, that’s a bit rich.

This weekend I’ve had little time to do more than work and change hotels, even though the weather has been glorious. Assuming the weather stays good (and that’s a fairly good assumption), I think next weekend would be a good time to jump in my shiny red Explorer (about 14 miles per gallon!) and head out to see the wildflowers at their peak. What was that toll-free number again …

The end of winter

Winter’s last fart has echoed through North Texas, and we are now seriously into Spring. In Texas (and not only in Texas, I’m sure) there are two definite indications of the onset of Spring: one is the usual daffodils, blossom on the trees, and steadily milder weather; the other is bikers.

Red Nose Day

You might think that Texas was an ideal place for a motorcycle (or a convertible) – unlike somewhere with an altogether different climate, such as, shall we say … England. This is only partly true. Winters here are not so extreme, nor so long, but they are unpleasant just the same; and summers are scorchingly hot, leaving most people dashing for the cover of an air-conditioned mall. So Spring and Fall are the best times for biker-watching, because the lack of legal requirement for a crash helmet, coupled with the equanimity of the weather, brings out the Harleys in their hundreds. I don’t think it’s anything to do with mid-life crisis, but, for a guy, there is nothing so cool as an “easy-rider” cruising down the highway, hair streaming in the wind, eyes protected by wrap-around shades, and long legs casually stretched out to the front footrests. And it’s nothing to do with women, because rarely do they have a passenger.

As you can guess, it’s been a quiet week here – no road trips, so nothing much to write about save casual musings. But I do have a picture of me celebrating Red Nose Day. Val very kindly shipped out 10 “red noses”, and I distributed them at work on the following 3 conditions:

1. If anybody took one, they had to wear it on Red Nose Day.
2. They must donate $2 to a charity of their choice.
3. There is no third condition.

All of the noses were claimed, and some of us wore them proudly to the traditional Friday lunchtime curry.

Hummer

 

I also have a picture of what must surely be the ugliest car in the world – the Hummer SUV. You wouldn’t see these in England for two reasons: if you get 10 miles to the gallon, you’re doing well, and there’d be nowhere you could park the monstrous thing.

Only in America!

Springtime in Texas

Uncertain?

 

Springtime is coming to North Texas. I should know – I’ve been wandering all over North Texas and the bayous of Northern Louisiana all day. I wasn’t lost, you understand. Just curious. I always know where I am, and can usually pinpoint my position to the exact state. Besides, it’s not possible to be lost with a full tank of gas. If there was a moment that I might have been temporarily at a loss, it’s depicted here.

The daffodils are out; the grass is greening up – patches of life emerging from the scrubby brown-ness of winter; virgin foliage still has the unsullied pale green of youth. The soon-to-come carpets of bluebonnets will be the final confirmation.

So where was I wandering? Or, more to the point, why? MapQuest, on the internet, assured me that the town of Brian, Louisiana is located slightly north of Shreveport, about 200 miles from Dallas. I had a mind to persuade someone to take a photo of me in front of the Post Office. I’ve done plenty of stupider things.

Bayou tapestry

Anyway, as far as I was able to determine, Brian LA doesn’t exist. I think a number of puzzled Louisianans would agree with me, especially the very sympathetic lady who answered the door of her house in the middle of nowhere (which was supposed to be in the middle of Brian!). Not that it matters. I decided to make my way back by a different route, and without the aid of a map – this always has a tendency to make things more interesting. Take, for instance, this “bayou tapestry” (I’m really sorry about that). (I don’t know what the birds were, but they looked really mean.) Of course I was so busy taking pictures that I only thought about the potential (non-human) residents of bayous that I might have inadvertently disturbed after I was safely back in the car.

Louisiana is very much a hunting and fishing state, and also has legalised gambling, so that almost every gas station had a “casino” attached and was full of people in heavy boots and camouflage stocking up on beer and chewing tobacco. I didn’t venture into any of the casinos, but I have a sneaking suspicion that most of them would just have been row upon row of slot machines.

The weather was not great, but it was still awe-inspiring to drive by populations of the most beautiful of all the “dirty blondes” – the Charolais – and “Toon Town Texotics”, with fields full of camels, llamas, and a host of other breeds that I didn’t have time to recognise. Louisiana is a poor state, and would be pretty if they’d clean up the litter. Still, “Worthy are the simple – they're happy in their ways” (Runrig, of course).

The great shame about American back-roads is that they are only used by locals. The interstate highway system is so good that most people will pass through entire states without seeing much more than the chain fast-food, gas and grocery stores that are by now so standardised and amorphous that it’s almost impossible to tell where you are. Corporate America seems to have convinced us that it’s a good thing to lack personality, except insomuch as it distinguishes you from your competitors. In the same way, they managed to persuade us that “fruit-on-the-bottom” yoghourt was for our benefit rather than an effort to reduce their manufacturing costs; that sixteen varieties of toothpaste are an absolute prerequisite for a civilized existence; and that we need to change our mobile phones at least every year.

I apologize for ranting, but it can’t be just me. Can it?

(PS. Since I’m ranting anyway, I re-entered Texas on a two-way road, with a half-shoulder on either side. That’s when I see, coming towards me at what I’d guess was about 45mph, a car with its headlights steadily flashing on and off, with a stream of cars backed up behind it; and on my side of the road, an accompanying SUV, definitely not a patrol car, with a blue light flashing on top. I was forced off the road, and that’s when I noticed that it was a funeral cortege. Call me old-fashioned, but I think courtesy goes both ways. If it had been driving at a sedate 25mph, I’d have had time to figure out what was going on, and take appropriate action. If my brain had worked quicker, I’d have stopped exactly where I was, held up the cortege, and demanded to know what the rush was all about, since the guy was presumably dead already. But that’s just because I’m bloody-minded.)

Poem ...

Your toes leave small dimples in the sand

That the water takes away

And carries to some foreign shore

Another time, another land.

Your words express my thoughts unspoken

Words that hide inside by day

That lurk behind half-opened doors

And when formed are always broken.

... and some haikus and tankas ...

 You are sleeping now
I silently lie with you
Breathing the same air

Love surrounds us both
Like a sheltering cocoon
We are safe within

Looking at the moon
I am jealous just because
It's looking at you

Your girlish giggles
Light up your youthful face
Your soft perfect lips
Yield passionately as I
Kiss them over and over

I haiku ... do you?
Just try it, you know, and zen
I'll haiku again.

... and a limerick that I wrote on a particularly boring night shift performance testing at AA

There's not much to see here right now -
The data continues to flow.
If that didn't rhyme,
It's no fault of mine,
But the spelling of English, you know.