For years, many years, I have been journeying to various events. I used to to travel in a hurry with a single mined focus, get there and back. Today when I make these trips, I put some time in the schedule to meander and look at things as I go and pause when I see things of interest. Many a town I would buzz by on the all american raceway, the interstate. Today I venture on the back roads and have a look at times past.
Here there are bits and pieces of dreams. Most have become neglected and are falling to decay. When the interstate highway system lots of the little towns were by passed. The highway people also rerouted many roadways to bypass towns. In the hurry to get to there, many things have been lost.
Seldom does travel go at a leisurely pace any more. It is hurry up and get there. The frantic pace of life is sometimes scary. I believe it is called instant gratification.
Now day I seek out some of these small towns and pause for a bit. Take a few pictures, wander some of the streets and take in the ambiance of small town ame4rica.
Time brings changes, it is inevitable. People change, move or pass on. Buildings crumble after abandonment or find other uses. Sometimes they just were not built all that well. I take their picture for someday they may fade into the times of forgotten days.
Then there is the little stream that meanders through the sand hills of the high prairie. It gurgles and tumbles across the semi arid plains making a small oasis.
Cars whiz by on the highway, pausing not, going from there to there. Life has a pace that does not always mesh with nature. I was once told, pause and smell the roses. Well not many roses grow around here, to cold and dry. There are other things to pause and ponder. A hundred plus years ago, these little towns were settled by pioneers, many emigrants from Europe. Here they could live the dream, a piece of land they could call their won.
Homes were built and shops erected. Government policies changed, dreams crashed and were abandoned.
What had been a thriving going village, now sits neglected and decaying. Dreams float over the grasses. Ghosts sit on the front entry.