Important Note: This is another series of blog posts where, when the events described within were transpiring, we did not take notes, and so here I am, thousands of years later, attempting to give context to images that, while able to trigger fragments of memories, act as an incomplete picture of the story. Sure enough, we should have been tending to these things without fail, but little did we understand the value of revisiting milestones later in life. And so, without that proverbial further ado, here we go into a murky past.
Who’d want to miss sunrise as seen from the Great Plains? We were up early and headed outside while breakfast was being prepared. All of our meals are included, and when I say all of “our meals,” I should point out that I paid an extra fee to share the “Social Sciences” classroom with Caroline, and for that fee, I get fed along with everyone else. So, until that first meal of the day is ready, we are out walking around the neighborhood
The blurry white spot at the top left is the moon setting in the west.
Hey, we have about a half-hour before we eat; how about we jump in the car and explore the area for a minute? Out we go.
Besides the abandoned house, we found this spider.
Then, there was this long string of geese flying overhead at the dirt road intersection of Crawford Road and 181st Streets.
I’ve likely said it before, but I suppose if I were a teen growing up out here, this would be incredibly boring, but as an adult, it’s incredibly beautiful.
Time to roll back to the high school for breakfast and for Caroline to start her first workshop.
No, this is not breakfast. It’s a crockpot of soaking roving getting readied for dying. From here, I left Caroline and headed out for my own adventure.
With an infinity of rural farmlands around me, this promises to be a treasure hunt.
An old schoolhouse that replaced an even older building that had originally been built in 1868 is all that remains of the town of Superior, Kansas. This building was built in 1894 to serve the Osage County area even though the town of Superior had been taken off the map by a tornado 35 years earlier in 1859.
There was an element of surprise that the schoolhouse was unlocked. Anywhere else in America, well near a major population center, this building would have been gutted and spray painted. What a treasure.
This place was too dusty to still be currently used but the arrangement of things suggests that maybe a small congregation was meeting here for a period.
I thought this was a mirage out on one of the many dirt roads I was traveling on today, but as this guy was approaching, I pulled over to the far right so he could pass and I could snap a proper photo as I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
From where the side view mirrors were mounted, I’d venture to say this was a 1961 Nash Metropolitan, which was the last year they were imported to the United States from Britain. As I searched for what exactly the car was, I learned that this was considered America’s first compact car. Here I am in rural Kansas and spot a perfectly restored 46-year-old classic car just cruising down a dirt road, another bit of treasure.
This had to be posted as, in my imagination, Kansas and the rest of the Great Plains is a vast flat wasteland of wind where one can see the Rocky Mountains to the west and the Statue of Liberty to the east, but here we see proof of trees.
There are a lot of soybeans out here. How do I know they were soybeans? I stop for all the crops to see what they are.
Remember I said I was in Osage County? Well, this is an Osage orange, and from previous experience, I know not to try to cut into it unless I want tar-like sap stuck to my hands for the rest of the day.
Enough exploring for now, as I need to go fetch lunch with that meal appointment back in Harveyville.
This is not psychedelic Cordon Bleu, nor is it an extra thick mixed fruit rollup; it is dyed roving because this is Fiber Arts at Yarn School. Okay, John, but what does it taste like? It tastes like Kool-Aid; you should try some.
Nothing quite like 14 years between something happening and returning to it to see how much we can age in that time. Caroline was at the cusp of 40 years old in this image, but maybe it’s the lab coat that makes her appear younger than she was.
This was the first roving Caroline ever dyed, not that this makes it especially important to anything but it does fill the space of that memory. Maybe Caroline can fill us in with a note about what it was ultimately used for.
[This roving got lost later on. As everyone’s work was rinsed later, we got to pick our stuff from drying racks, and this one had disappeared. I ended up with a different one, which wasn’t a big deal. – Caroline]
This photo does nothing more than provide me with an image of a beautiful woman smiling in happiness. How do I know it’s a legitimate smile? I know her eyes rather intimately.
The old school cafeteria is downstairs in the basement, which I suppose also acted as a tornado shelter back in the day. Anyway, most everyone is NOT down there having lunch as it will be had elsewhere. Things are being collected, and logistics are being figured out as I was taking this photo. By the way, you likely noticed that under all those spinning wheels is the floor of a basketball court. This being an old high school, it came with this auditorium and stage, but of course it did! Nikol and Ron get to call this home as not only are the buildings used for events, but they are also the permanent address for these two inhabitants.
Oooh, a field trip! Those of us with cars were part of the shuttle crew as we ventured away from Harveyville and out to a nearby farm where a family was raising alpacas.
While they look super cuddly, they are rather skittish and prefer to hang amongst themselves. Well…
…at least they get shorn, which allows us humans to cuddle them by wearing their coats. This was certainly a nice touch from Nikol setting up a field trip, some shopping, and lunch out on a farm.
With the women back at Yarn School, I took off again to explore another direction as photography waits for no man or woman; you’ve got to get it while you can.
A stone barn? I don’t mind if I do.
Who says the Great Plains are boring?
One just needs a little bit of weed to make things better. Just kidding. I seriously no longer need the weed to improve a thing, nor do I think this wild ditch weed would have packed much of a punch. Outside of an abandoned home, maybe a dozen marijuana plants had taken root and were just absorbing the sunlight, looking uncared for and quite harmless.
I have no real idea where I’m going when I venture out to see what might be down almost any particular road. My intention is simply to see what’s there and, if I’m lucky, find those views that are somehow appealing to something within me.
This theme of setting my exposure on the brightest reflected light in order to see everything else in silhouette is definitely a popular theme of mine; when I’m near water at that time of day, this effect works so well. In retrospect, I should have held the camera high over my head to capture the top of the heads of the two ladies out fishing so their figures wouldn’t have merged so well into the tree-lined shore in the background.
In an age where the outside world offered us magic, we found novelty in architecture and design. The facades and interiors of the businesses we visited were part of an experience; they were not purely utility. After moving deeper into our homes and minds with the help of ever-larger television screens, the internet, and video games, we no longer have such a need to experience the ornate. Well, that’s not exactly true. The wealthy who better appreciate the experiential qualities of reality will pay to visit the exquisite, but the average person is quite happy with their yellow plastic and neon stop at drab convenience. Remember that I’m writing this in 2021, not in 2007, when these events were happening and photos were taken. By now, I realize that we are racing to the cheapest, most utilitarian environment for the masses.
I wish to return to this environment and sequester myself away from the realities of living in the city, but back when we were out here and even now so many years later, it’s impossible to earn the income and afford the land that would allow a fulfilling life away from it all. Certainly, this is in part due to my lack of imagination and skill to figure out a way to earn a living that would support this dream, but we can’t have it all. Well, at least I can’t, which I suppose would be the equivalent of having my cake and eating it too.
Back at Yarn School, the women, at least momentarily, are apparently unconcerned about the troubles of the world as they explore the vibrancy of learning a new craft and share their time with other like-minded women. I wish to lose myself in color, patterns, and friendship, skipping the part where the problems of the world are considered. Maybe I, too, should have taken up learning the fiber arts.
Into the night the camaraderie and opportunity to use tools possibly not owned at home keep many of the attendees awake and busy. Spinning, knitting, carding, all the while chatting and sharing techniques are the order of the day. Community is what was happening here, something that is becoming ever more rarified as we turn away from the ability to converse about a broad range of topics.
