Photos around Cape Archives

May 11, 2020May 11, 2020

Desktop Cleaning

A former coworker of mine engages in what he calls “desktop cleaning” from time to time where he digs out stuff that has been held hostage by dust bunnies.

Just because I’ve been slacking off for a couple of years doesn’t mean that I’ve gone completely dormant. I’ve still been shooting stuff that catches my eye, I just haven’t gone to the extra step of publishing it. Unfortunately, some of that stuff is no longer timely, so it may never escape the dust bunnies.

An ageless tree

This guy, though, is ageless. I was getting ready to pull out of the parking lot at Wib’s BBQ in Jackson last year when I saw an old dead tree that had been invisible until then. I knocked off several frames before this bird was kind enough to fly over. (Click on the photo to make it larger.)

The tree may have blown down by now, for all I know. I’ve been back to Wib’s many times since, but I’ve never noticed it more than that once.

In case you doubt my Wib’s obsession

In case you doubt my addiction to Wib’s, here are a few posts I’ve done over the years.

This doesn’t count the number of times I’ve overnighted sandwiches to my boys in Florida or packed them in dry ice to deliver them in person.

May 10, 2020May 7, 2021

Floods and ‘Wrong’ Turns

If I have to go to St. Louis, I usually take 1-55 northbound because I probably have to do something time-sensitive, like picking up or dropping someone off at the airport. I don’t mind, because it’s a pretty stretch of road, much nicer than most pieces of the Super Slab that have an “I” as their first name.

Fourche a du Clos Valley Roadside Park

On the way back, I look for more scenic routes. I generally hop on Hwy 61 just north of Bloomsdale. That’ll give me a chance to see the Dew Drop Inn, and look over the valley at from the Fourche a du Clos Valley Roadside Park.

When I made the trip in May of 2019, the Mississippi River was misbehaving. A few weeks earlier, there was a sign just north of St. Mary that warned the road was underwater. I knew a dodge that would take me around the low lands, so I ignored the Road Closed sign in Ste. Gen.

Valle Spring Cemetery

The river had come up a few feet by the time I made this trip.

The water was over the road well north of my cutoff, so I had to backtrack to pick up Missouri M in Ste. Genevieve. That turned out to be a good thing, because it took me past the Valle Spring Cemetery (also known as Calvary Cemetery).

The beautiful grounds, home to about 6,000 permanent residents, was a place I’d like to explore more some day.

A peaceful resting place

I don’t think you can find anything greener or more peaceful than the lane that runs through the graveyard.

The Quarrytown Road Gamble

Just beyond the cemetery was Quarrytown Road that took off to the south. I gambled that it might stay on high ground to below St. Mary.

I always like driving through the rolling hills between Cape and Altenburg, but I think this road was even more scenic.

I just like it

When I started to get back in the van after shooting the vista, this old post caught my eye. I can never explain why I’m stopped by some things.

This ain’t great art, but I like all the shades of green and the idea that some farmer tacked a fence to this old tree no telling how many decades ago.

Sometimes you just have to believe the signs

When I got to the intersection of Quarrytown Road and Hwy 61, I found that it was time to turn around. The Mississippi River had other plans for me.

The road back was pretty enough that I didn’t mind seeing it from the other direction. I ended up taking I-55 most of the way back to Cape.

I believe that life is about journeys, not destinations. If Hwy 61 hadn’t been under water, I would never have discovered the cemetery nor Quarrytown Road. That made it a good day.

April 15, 2020April 15, 2020

Seed Pods & Trinity Lutheran School

I looked down at the ground this week and saw something that transported me back to grade school days on the playground at Trinity Lutheran School.

Maple tree seed pods

The little seeds would auto-rotate down like a helicopter whose engine had quit. It was nature’s nifty way to make sure the seeds were distributed over a wide area.

You could get an ear full of them, too

When the seeds had just fallen, and you squeezed them just right, you could sneak up to a buddy and give him an earful of juice.

Before long, the whole playground was full of little squirts giving little squirts to little squirts until a teacher intervened.

I can see sitting in detention when the miscreant next to you whispers, “What are you in for?”

“Assault with a Maple seed.” Not exactly something that earns you playground cred.

Maples and Redbuds Come First

The maple trees and redbuds are the first trees to come alive in the spring. The walnut trees are more conservative: they want to make sure the cold weather is gone for good before they come out of hibernation.

(Speaking of hibernation, I was moving a stack of old walnut logs the other day and disturbed three snakes. They were harmless garter snakes who moved slow until they realized there was a reason the sun was suddenly beating down on them.

April 8, 2020April 8, 2020

The Indomitable Redbud Tree

A quick-moving windstorm last summer split an aging redbud tree in the back yard and laid it low. Since it stayed green until winter, and it was popular with visiting deer, I decided to wait until spring to cut it up.

Much to my surprise, even though it’s barely holding onto the stump by a thread, it bloomed out like crazy. One at the side of the house next to the porch did a great job of catching the late afternoon sun. You can click on it to make it larger.

Tulips and The Witch

Spring is my favorite time of the year. It’s a time of rebirth and promise, while the flashier Fall is fleeting and brings with it cold weather, dark days and bare trees.

I had a pleasant surprise when I walked outside the other morning. The front planter was alive with red and yellow tulips. I’d like to take credit for them, but it’s obvious from all the dead grass from last summer that I had nothing to do with their success.

The Witch in the Window is a symbol of my self-quarantine. (OK, so I put it up at Halloween a year ago and never took it down, but the thought is there.)