Searching
Last weekend, Jeff presented me with a map of Noble County, Oklahoma, and all the "named places" there. He said that, aside from the county seat and a few towns that still have purposes (Northern Oklahoma College, for instance), most of them are now ghost towns. So we drove around the back roads of the county searching for them. We did find Marland, which definitely rose to the occasion of Freeport, if not Bluff City, but i didn't take any pictures. Marland, Oklahoma is squarely in the Ponca Nation, and most of the people who live there are Ponca Indians.
The map was a little vague, and despite my navigational genius, it had a fatal flaw (namely, it said that OK 156 continued east until it ended and gave way to back roads beyond US 177, but unfortunately OK 156 makes a northerly turn in Marland that was not indicated by the hand-drawn map) so we ended up wandering through the back roads of Kay County, and found no more ghost towns. However, i did have a wonderful time looking out over the prairies in springtime. They are strikingly green, greener than i have ever seen the trees in Pennsylvania or the spartina grass on the coast of South Carolina. Photographs do not do it justice, but here are a few.
Springtime is delicious on the Great Plains. Winter is long and harsh, and the land becomes stark and uninteresting. The winds whip across the fields and can cut into you even through multiple layers of clothes. When spring finally comes, it is spectacular. But there's no such thing as free lunch, and here the beauty of a new season comes with a number of dangers. Most familiar to the rest of the country is the tornadoes. (No photos yet... i'm working on it.) The other may be familiar to you bar-hoppers (or former bar-hoppers): prairie fires. In the Flint Hills of Kansas, this is the time of year people will travel there, supposedly from nation-wide, to see the controlled burns. They will find a hilltop and perch there as the sun goes down, to watch the lights across the sea of grassland. But you don't have to travel far to find them. i have seen several in my back-road jaunts. Here is one that was small enough to drive up to and photograph safely.
When my mother came to visit Kansas, she could see the charm here but not why i am so enchanted by it. my father understood immediately. i don't know that i can describe it. But it's just... different. And that's what i was really looking for. i will not stay here forever, but i will always remember the arc of the Kansas sky, and the wide open feeling of freedom. i remain a mountain girl, and a forest lover. But i can understand now why prairie natives feel claustrophobic in the shadow of high peaks, and why they have been caught saying things like, "I don't like the Rockies. They block my view of the stars."
The map was a little vague, and despite my navigational genius, it had a fatal flaw (namely, it said that OK 156 continued east until it ended and gave way to back roads beyond US 177, but unfortunately OK 156 makes a northerly turn in Marland that was not indicated by the hand-drawn map) so we ended up wandering through the back roads of Kay County, and found no more ghost towns. However, i did have a wonderful time looking out over the prairies in springtime. They are strikingly green, greener than i have ever seen the trees in Pennsylvania or the spartina grass on the coast of South Carolina. Photographs do not do it justice, but here are a few.
Springtime is delicious on the Great Plains. Winter is long and harsh, and the land becomes stark and uninteresting. The winds whip across the fields and can cut into you even through multiple layers of clothes. When spring finally comes, it is spectacular. But there's no such thing as free lunch, and here the beauty of a new season comes with a number of dangers. Most familiar to the rest of the country is the tornadoes. (No photos yet... i'm working on it.) The other may be familiar to you bar-hoppers (or former bar-hoppers): prairie fires. In the Flint Hills of Kansas, this is the time of year people will travel there, supposedly from nation-wide, to see the controlled burns. They will find a hilltop and perch there as the sun goes down, to watch the lights across the sea of grassland. But you don't have to travel far to find them. i have seen several in my back-road jaunts. Here is one that was small enough to drive up to and photograph safely.
When my mother came to visit Kansas, she could see the charm here but not why i am so enchanted by it. my father understood immediately. i don't know that i can describe it. But it's just... different. And that's what i was really looking for. i will not stay here forever, but i will always remember the arc of the Kansas sky, and the wide open feeling of freedom. i remain a mountain girl, and a forest lover. But i can understand now why prairie natives feel claustrophobic in the shadow of high peaks, and why they have been caught saying things like, "I don't like the Rockies. They block my view of the stars."
posted by ellie at 08:07
3 Comments:
Most amazing part was probably entering a town and not knowing where we were... That hasn't happened to me in a long time like that. I was more than a bit surprised to find myself in Newkirk, but it made sense with the rural water towers we were seeing.
I love adventuring with you, babe. Even though they sometimes go as we're not intending, there's nothing like being on the open road with you experiencing the fullness of life.
How wonderful! But nothing in my world beats the view of mountains in the background.
They have the best skies in that part of the country. None of those pesky trees to get in your way. For some reason, I think you might teach science. Have you ever researched playa lakes? That is just a fanscinating way that some creatures have adpated to survive in that part of the country.
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