Homestead Open Space

Homestead Park

               Traveling down a secondary highway, I would pass through farm country.  Urban blight had moved in among the farms and suburbs were being erected.  What had once been open fields were now houses and fences.  This was mostly irrigated truck farms and vegetables and orchards were the primary crops, well no more.  Now the crops were two by sixes and homes. 

               One of the old farm houses next to the roadway had a sign on it saying it was now owned by the county open space parks people.  Gates were closed and locked and there was no sign of life.  So on past I drove.  A few years later I was in the area again and this time when driving past, the gates were open and there were signs of people.  I pulled off and turned into the gate, parking in the lot I ventured forth. 

               Back door of the house was propped open I there were people inside.  Going in, I found one of the park rangers.  The ranger explained to me the history of the homestead and what the county had plans to do with it.  I listened to her talk about the area, and while she was talking some university students walked in.   The ranger said they were volunteers at the homestead and they could guide me around the property.  Going outside the students started chattering about their projects from the summer.   They pointed to the flower patches, chattering away at all their flowers.  Then we got to their garden patch and said next year we are going plant a garden and grow our vegetables.  They listed everything they were going to grow. I was impressed, for their patch was about 4 feet by 6 feet.

               They pointed towards the barn and explained it was an ice barn.  That the farmer would harvest ice from the nearby pond and store it in the barn through the summer.  Then they pointed to a shed and said be careful when going in there, there is a barn owl that lives in there.  I nodded and looked around the grounds at the other buildings and the farm house.  As we were standing there, the students said they had to get back to school for their next class. 

               So I said thanks and goodbye, off they went, leaving me by myself.  I walked over the barn to have a look and it was huge.  It was hard to imagine ice being stacked up in here in blocks to last all summer.  Most of it was still intact, built early 1900.  On the West side was a lower level and here were milking stalls, milk room and feed bunk.  There were about 12 stalls for milking, so made me wonder if they also made ice cream with all the ice.  The other possibility would be, that as they delivered ice, they were also delivering milk, maybe butter and or ice cream.  There were lots of possibilities, then being an ice farm, made it very unique. 

               I wandered around looking at the assorted stuff lying around the grounds.  I then headed for the machine shed to look at the equipment stored in there.  As I turned the corner to walk in, I startled the owl and out he flew, wings a flapping in a hasty furry to get away.  The racket of the owl gave me start as ducked down to keep from being scalped.   It was not the kind of encounter I had wanted, for I had hopes of getting pictures. 

               He circled around a couple of times and saw me standing there.  So off to another shed he went while the stranger continued his snooping.

               I enjoyed my walk around of the old homestead and was happy the park people were going to take care of a piece of history.  Complete homesteads, in their original location, were few and far apart.  Here they were going to preserve an original homestead at its original location. 

               The farmhouse was a classic two story building, front and rear porches.  Kitchen on the backside that lead to a cellar door.  The front door opened into a parlor and back to the eating area by the kitchen.  Stairs went up to the bedrooms.  The outhouse was in back.  There had been no plumbing until later and heat was a parlor stove or the kitchen stove.  It was everything the pioneer settler worked for. 

               Some years later I passed through the area and was going to stop in and see what progress there was.  The gates were locked and there were no signs of any activity.  Things were overgrown, the garden patch was filled with weeds and flowers were brown.  Not sure what had happened, it was like the county had deserted the property. 

               Years after that, I was in a nearby town, so I decided to take a trip out there and see if there were any changes.  As I drove out there, new subdivisions had been built, more farmland had disappeared.  The homestead was almost surrounded by new homes.  No the gates were not open.  The place looked very unkempt and derelict. 

               I have not been back to the area in some years, but hopefully the county got somebody in there to take care of the place and fix it back up. 

The Slovak Community

 

The Christian Orthodox Church marks the remnants of a once wide spread community that fled from Eastern Europe during the communist revolution in Russia.  Situated north of Calhan, CO, on the other side of the valley.  Here the few descendants from the early settler still celebrate their heritage.  Once a year they have Slavic days.  Worship services are still held in the little country church.

Scattered across the area are other reminders of when there were more Slovaks in the area.  Empty church, cemeteries in the land and the names in the phone book still resonate.  They were mostly, Ukrainians, Serbs and Czech’s.  The community reached into the Black Forest to East of Matheson, CO. 

Like many small towns on the prairie, the siren song of the city attracts many a youngster leave their home and go seeking in the lights of big city life.  The few that remain carry on the life their ancestors started.  The horrors of communism that their friends left behind had to face are memories that do not go away.  The slaughter of the populace by Lenin and the Bolsheviks is not forgotten.  Here they fond a life they could live out in peace for over a century.  Yet the communists of Russia have raised their ugliness from time to time to remind them of why they fled.  One of the first thing the communists did was to ban churches in the countries under their control. 

Around the US  were other communities like this.  The north side of Denver has a settlement of Slovakians. 

Much like other settlers in the US, schools were important.  Building schools and educating their children into the new country, their adopted country was important.  Farming and ranching the pioneers gained a new life in a new land.  A land away from tyranny. 

Today, much of what they built is now gone.  Only memories and the occasional old picture. 

Buildings of Ghosts

 

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.

Building Murals

 

Climbing up the scaffolding I would watch the painter briefly as he scampered around, admiring his work in progress.  The wall was being transformed.  No longer would it be a mundane building sitting on the corner of Main and the old highway.  The spirit of the community was being placed on the wall.  Soon the figures of the towns heritage would look out across the way.

In my travels I have run across many a mural painted on a variety of structures.  This mural here is on the side of a store, AKA chocolate factory.  It depicts the early days of the the town when it came into existence in the late 1800’s.

Old Colorado City sits at the base of Pikes Peak and here is where the gold ore from the mountain was processed.  It was a rough and tumble town of the gold rush.  Businesses prospered as the mill workers and freight handlers have lots of disposable income. 

One side of the street was the goody tow shoe side, the other was the side of ill repute.  Gun fights were not unusual but it was mostly bare knuckles in the saloon and alleys.  To the lusty side would go the merchants and bankers but not by the sidewalk.  Instead tunnels were built under the street so the bankers…. etc. could discreetly go over to the saloon or house of ill repute and indulge in the businesses over there.

In the 1860’s Colorado City was the territorial capital of Colorado.  Today it is a part of Colorado Springs and one of many tourist traps around the area.

Like many tourist traps it has it beauty and this recent mural has a certain attraction and reflects the old village pretty good.

 

Are there any murals in your area that have been recently painted?

Small Towns

 

No longer am I in a hurry to get there.  Now I plan my trips with some slack time to tour some of the small towns I pass through.  There are a variety of buildings.  I like to capture pictures of them and there are other things that are unique to that town.

State of neglect is the companion of many of these burgs.  Businesses are gone as are the residents.

The old storefronts line the highway.  Most boarded up and awaiting……….?  Some look like they came from the south, others from another era.

Thriving businesses they were.  Serving travelers, tourists and the wanderer.  Travel changes, people flock to the super speedways of the Interstate, bypassing these little villages.

A few have tried to find a new life for them but to little avail.

Wonder where those gates led to, was it a plantation a large business or maybe a mansion.  Today it is overgrown with weeds and care is neglected.  What could the story be, a dream gone bad?

A southwestern style home, gated and protected from unwanted visitors.

Time moves on, these little towns struggle to survive.  The Siren song of the big city calls their children.

 

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Calvary outpost….. Ft Wallace

 

Took a short trip to check out an old steam engine and chase it.  Along the way there were other things to look at and take pictures.

One of the places I wanted to go to was Wallace, Kansas.  Here are the remains of an old military building.  It had been a museum at one time but Kansas changed their tax policies for places such as this.  Losing their money the locals closed it up and today it sits vacant.

 

It is given some care but for the most part it appears to sit neglected.  There are stress cracks here and there that probably will become worse over time.  Being made of rock it will wear pretty good.  I just hope Kansas will give some funding to it to keep it from falling apart.  Then it is not alone, I have run into other places that have closed up when the state pulled the funding.

I hate to see the funding pulled yet the local county is not all that poor and something more could be done with it.

Yet it is so typical, rely o n big brother, in this case the state, and all of a sudden big brother closes the pocket book.  People throw their hands up and …………

Ft Wallace came into being in the 1860’s to protect the Smoky Hill Trail and the railroad.  In 1868 the railroad stopped building and Ft Wallace became the railhead for a couple of years.  It was a wild and rowdy town.  Railroad workers hanging around, not much to do, gold seekers passing through and the outlaws plundering anything and everything.  Late 1869 the railroad started building west again and Wallace shrunk.  A few years later, most of the Indian problems were over and the Calvary had not much to do. 

On off went the Army to other jobs and the building was left behind.  The town of Wallace prospered until the depression and then dust bowl.  Today it has a few residents and lots of ghosts.  The building was fed and well cared for but today it is abandoned.

In back the horses await the return of the cavalry to go riding on the prairie looking for Indians and bad men.

Things like this I have no problem supporting with tax money but at what level.  So much tax money is spent on special interests and things like this get lost.  There also needs to be some local help and not reliance on big brother because look what happens when big brother changes his mind.  Maybe there is a lesson in there someplace but do we learn?

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Other Notes

My pelvis is pretty well healed up and the tailbone is doing pretty good.  I am still battling the hematoma, but at least I can sit for a spell now.  I am looking at blogging some more and getting around to others also.  Got a bunch more stories from this short trip.  Some neat train pictures and buildings in the small towns.

Have a good week.

Support Counter Intelligence

 

Out in a little town, in the middle of nowhere, close to somewhere is Mama’s store.  Here is a collection of old stuff, for she rents space to a variety of people.  Even the store is old.

In the old days of saloons and pool halls this shop thrived.  Pool balls made great missiles to be launched at the enemy.  Even the ceiling had it’s stories.  There and here was the occasional bullet hole. 

 

The clientele has changed, it is now mostly the wives of the pool players that wander the aisles. No longer to the six shooters thunder forth, or dodge the lost pool ball.

The floor can still be heard shuffling some soft shoe.  The hair from the barber getting mixed into the floor.  His chair long gone, but a memory.

The bar, cabinets and stools still await the thirsty traveler.  One can belly up to the bar.

I  stop in for the iced latte, maybe a shake just for  the ambiance.  Walk the aisles, hear the memories whisper to me.

Rodeo Time

 

The Ranch Rodeo and Bronc Riding was this past weekend.  Got out there for a part of it.

First round was in the evening, second day was afternoon….. Temps went over the century mark…… lots of drinking….. well ya….. water and…. hehe.

 

Not all the riders had a good grip.

Hope you had a good weekend and  may the Lord bless your week.

Demise of an Icon

 

On my blog headers I post pictures I have taken.  Usually they are old buildings of some sort.  On Wordpress I posted a picture of an old abandoned gas station in a ghost town.  I went through there a few days ago.  My gas station has collapsed.  The posts that held the canopy rotted out and the roof fell over the little station.

The highway was rerouted in the 40’s, so I’m guessing this old station was built around 1910-20.  There weren’t many cars traveling the prairie back then but they did need supplies and little stations like this popped up to meet needs back then. 

After the highway was moved the town did not survive much longer, businesses failed and people moved.  A few hung on working for a rancher or neighboring town.

When I saw the roof collapsed a twinge of sadness crawled over me.  Here was an American icon fading into the pages of history, soon to be forgotten.  The Golden Belt Route did not have the fame of Route 66 but it had the character of early Americana.

This little town originally was a stage stop in the 1860’s.  It survived Indian attacks, the Dust Bowl and other ravages but it could not survive the government.

Well I shall jump in my Model A and get ready to go cruising for the weekend.  May your weekend be blessed.

Main Street

 

Small Town America has its main street and each is unique yet very similar.  Building style in the Americas was brought from Europe and as the people moved west they brought what they were familiar with.

The highway would divide the town and usually there was some railroad tracks next to the road.  With the changes in style and moving to the burbs, style has changed.  In the old neighborhoods of the city and out in the small towns the simple style can still be  seen.  There are no sleek and shiny buildings in these place, well usually.

Main street is maybe the highway or it is a cross street to the highway.  Sometimes main street would be built around a town square, here the roads intersected and there would be a bandstand in the middle.

In my roaming I go through many small rural towns.  Time permitting I stop and take a few pictures of Main Street.

The old hotels that are still standing are rare catches and made for interesting architecture.  Pause and imagine the business that was transacted in the lobbies of these grand old buildings.  Here is where the traveling peddler would stay.  These small towns were important to him. 

Nearby would be his customers, the clothing shop, hardware store, drug store or maybe the bank.  I would love to have the wall of these old buildings talk to me.

Some have moved to these small towns and bought the old empty stores and made them into nice homes.  Put some sweat equity into them.

Journey down the back roads, what is the next cross road reveal.  Is there another adventure awaiting.

Hope you are having a great week.  Winter is knocking on the door here.  Below freezing and snow in the mountains.

Old Threshers Day…… finit

 

Threshing day, this is the day the farmer worked for.  Here he would see the fruits of his labor.  The grain was his pay for the years work of plowing, tilling and planting.  I was an area celebration.  Neighbors would gather and help each other with the threshing.  Hay ricks would be towed in, followed by grain wagons.  The wives would show up with lemonade and food, there would be visiting and catching up on the gossip.

Usually one farmer would have a threshing machine and another would supply the tractor and together the neighbors would work from sun up till it set.

Hay ricks would empty and be re loaded with the straw for the hay stack.  Grain wagons would be hauled back to the granary to be unloaded.  It was a frenzy of activity.

The tractor would be hooked up and work begins.  Wheat bundles tossed to the threshers belt and separated out grain rolls out of the chute while straw piles up behind the thresher.

For the farmer this was the most critical part of the year.  It made him or broke him.  No longer do the steamers operate the thrashers today.

The government has passed all kinds of regulations and inspections that most people don’t want to spend the money to show them off.  The government has taken a harmless hobby and quashed it because one individual screwed up and blew his tractor up.  The many have to pay for the screw up of one.

For me these celebrations are about the steamers and the roll they played in pioneer life.  Instead an old tractor gets hooked up and sputters along imitating an old steamer.

This is what I learned to drive, it was one year newer.  I didn’t drive a car till I was 16.  It was trucks and tractors out across the fields and down the country roads.

May the dove of happiness be your companion this weekend.

Old Threshers Day…… VI

 

One of the old days is the old time entertainment.  The singing, with maybe an instrument, something small, a fiddle, harmonica or a dulcimer maybe.  Guitars and pianos were just plain ole big to lug over the prairie in a covered wagon, although a few made it.  There was always the washboard and maybe some spoons.  Otherwise music was pretty simple. 

There were some singers that sang during the lunch hour.  Some good picking and twanging to go with the barbecue.  There were a couple of large canopies with picnic tables under them and a PA system was set for the entertainment.   They had their guitars and a good nasal twang, good ole down home singin’.

Later s fiddler showed up and the hoe down was under way.

Collections, never have I seen so many collectible collections.

And there were also quilts.  What is an old time day without a quilt or two.

Jump in the Ox wagon and go for a ride around the grounds.

Threshers Day….. V Draft Horses

 

The monster horse, does not pull the beer wagon, it pulls the plow and other equipment.  Draft horses are monster horses, they will come close to weighing in at a ton, 1500-1900 pounds.  15 hands tall to big ones over 18 hands.  The average horse is 11-12 hands, 1000 to 1100 pounds.  It is amazing to watch these big brutes work.  They are so gentle and easy to be around.

As I watched them work, it was not easy for the horses to plod over the dirt clods.  They would stumble at times but they maintained their balance.  At a nice even pace they walked the field.

 

I finally got this young lady to pose for me.  She is not a small person but she is dwarfed next to the horse.

As one hooks up the the buggy another keeps the horses still so they do not walk away from the tongue.  Working behind horses is a tricky business and many do not do.  Yet these handlers worked with ease behind their horses.

There were different horses there and there was a set of mules there.

Surprisingly the mule will out work the big horses.  Their stamina is longer and they don’t need the rest like a horse does.  They also tend to be stronger then a horse.  After the oxen the mule was the next preferred beast of burden for plowing or hauling wagons.  The horse is the glamour animal, the worker is the mule.

What was neat to watch was this little girl.  She appeared to be about 12 years old.  She was guiding these big horses around with ease.  A jiggle of the reins, a clicking of the tongue and the animals moved at her command.  It might of been an older brother and little sister, because he was walking with her and talking to her and the horses.  Around the yard they went.

To look over the backs of these animals, one has to be about 6’6” or get a ladder to stand on.

Have a good week.