In which I go to Kansas for a week
My April trip was to Topeka to begin the implementation for KSNT. I did ask for this assignment, but it's not the exciting locations to which I've been in the past. I do have reasons for going, many of them nostalgic.
I choose to drive for a couple of reasons. I like to be on my own schedule, leave when I want, take a side-trip if I like. But mostly I like to drive through the land that at times seems as much a part of me as my bones. I've made the I-70 trip so many times that I know what is around each bend and over every hill. I have favorite landmarks - the edge of the high plains at Cedar Point, the first glimpse of Pike's Peak, the ravines feeding into the Republican River, which will become my beloved Kaw some 400 miles to the east, the rugged hills west of Salina, and post rock country in the Smoky Hills.
My favorite place has to be the Flint Hills, in which I was born. The broad rolling vistas always appear in my mind's eye in sunset, the ranges of hills growing blue and smoky in the distance. Whether dressed in spring green or fall's golden hues, the tallgrass prairie is so much a part of my childhood that I long to linger on some high ridge for the afternoon. The Flint Hills are too close to either the beginning or the end of the journey that I usually dash through, but not without a lingering gaze.
This week was the burning time on the prairie. The evening horizon was gray; the atmosphere hazy. The smell of burning prairie extended even into Topeka, a county away from the Flint Hills. The burning controls the growth of woody plants - rainfall is high enough to support forestation in the Flint Hills - and speeds emergence of new grass for livestock. Although described as "controlled" burns, it's hard to see that much control is being exerted - no one ever seems to be present, and the sheer size of the burns seems to defy control by a few mere mortals. The smoke certainly created visibility and helath issues, but the annual burn is nevertheless required to preserve the tallgrass prairie.
As usual - and to be expected - a day at the tv station is exhausting, and most nights I retreated to the hotel expecting mostly sleep. One night I did walk across 17th street to the K-Mart for some necessities, and spent some quality time shopping for plants. Not having much in the way of financial resources, I purchased just what was needed, expecting to be able to pick up a few things wanted rather then needed on Friday.
My co-worker, a young man transplanted to San Francisco from Alabama, professed to liking barbeque. This was all the invitation I needed to drag him off to Boss Hawg's for lunch on Wednesday; Thursday we went to a very old favorite, Tortilla Jack's. I suppose the familiar foods are one of the things I like about going to Topeka, and I did make the rounds.
Thursday evening I spent with Bret. We ate at Annie's, an old favorite for the potato wedges and chicken gravy, as well as the Alouette burger, a burger with Alouette herbed cheese and sweet pickles. Bret seems to be doing well enough, but is experiencing a lot of fatigue from the HIV drugs.
Friday was going-home day, and I took my co-worker up to KCI, but not without several detours. We stopped in Lawrence for lunch at Free State Brewery, which was pronounced "very good", and then to Jayhawk Spirit for KU souveniers. It turns out that Todd likes collegiate sports so much that he totes up contact with big colleges, and having KU so close at hand was for him an unexpected bennie. I drove us up to the campus on 12th Street - the steepest - and demonstrated to him, that yes, I did walk up hill to school both ways when a student at KU.
The trip to KCI was a not-so-cleverly disguised ruse to gain barbeque from the BBQ capital of the US. After flailing about a bit along I-70 through Kansas City, I managed to find Arthur Bryant's. The place smelled like heaven. I spent $60 on two slabs of ribs and two pounds of smoked meats. Mission accomplished, I headed west.
I was to pick up some of Chris' grandfather's tools from Chris' mom on Friday night. We went out to dinner at a little place in Oakland, La Siesta. It's a hole in a wall, a resturant in a house in a residential neighborhood. You wouldn't find it if you weren't looking for it. The chili con queso was real cheese, not the pasturized stuff that is featured in most Mexican resturants. I thouroughly enjoyed the CCQ on top of my tamales - not to mention the chips. I left Jan's at 8:30, and skipped a little further west.
I do intend to pick up plants in Kansas that I can't get here in Denver. For a couple years in a row I was able to get pansies in Victorian colors, and I always get my tomatoes from there, since I like to plant early. So I had one more stop before leaving Topeka. I wanted to check out the plants at Lowe's. Alas, I found no suitable tomatoes (all too long season) but did get two butterfly bushes. And some lilies, Sunday being Easter. Madonna lilies are a period species, and I can always drop them into the period garden.
It was 9:30 when I checked out. I had checked out of my hotel room that morning, and so had no Topeka reservations. I headed west, knowing that I probably wouldn't get very far, but feeling that a few hours closer to Denver would give me some pad time before I had to have the car back on Saturday.
Leaving Topeka on Friday night, the Flint Hills were again on fire. Some of the flames seemed to come right up to the highway, and in the dark, the glow of distant fires was ever-present on the horizon. Once, to find out how thick the smoke was, I flipped the AC over to intake outside air, but shut that off in a hurry. I wonder what it might have looked like in the daylight, remembering the Coal Seam fire a couple of years ago in Glenwood Springs.
I made it all the way to Russell before pulling off for the night. Only two and a half hours closer to Denver, but Saturday was to be a whole new driving adventure. I was glad I started on Friday night.
I choose to drive for a couple of reasons. I like to be on my own schedule, leave when I want, take a side-trip if I like. But mostly I like to drive through the land that at times seems as much a part of me as my bones. I've made the I-70 trip so many times that I know what is around each bend and over every hill. I have favorite landmarks - the edge of the high plains at Cedar Point, the first glimpse of Pike's Peak, the ravines feeding into the Republican River, which will become my beloved Kaw some 400 miles to the east, the rugged hills west of Salina, and post rock country in the Smoky Hills.
My favorite place has to be the Flint Hills, in which I was born. The broad rolling vistas always appear in my mind's eye in sunset, the ranges of hills growing blue and smoky in the distance. Whether dressed in spring green or fall's golden hues, the tallgrass prairie is so much a part of my childhood that I long to linger on some high ridge for the afternoon. The Flint Hills are too close to either the beginning or the end of the journey that I usually dash through, but not without a lingering gaze.
This week was the burning time on the prairie. The evening horizon was gray; the atmosphere hazy. The smell of burning prairie extended even into Topeka, a county away from the Flint Hills. The burning controls the growth of woody plants - rainfall is high enough to support forestation in the Flint Hills - and speeds emergence of new grass for livestock. Although described as "controlled" burns, it's hard to see that much control is being exerted - no one ever seems to be present, and the sheer size of the burns seems to defy control by a few mere mortals. The smoke certainly created visibility and helath issues, but the annual burn is nevertheless required to preserve the tallgrass prairie.
As usual - and to be expected - a day at the tv station is exhausting, and most nights I retreated to the hotel expecting mostly sleep. One night I did walk across 17th street to the K-Mart for some necessities, and spent some quality time shopping for plants. Not having much in the way of financial resources, I purchased just what was needed, expecting to be able to pick up a few things wanted rather then needed on Friday.
My co-worker, a young man transplanted to San Francisco from Alabama, professed to liking barbeque. This was all the invitation I needed to drag him off to Boss Hawg's for lunch on Wednesday; Thursday we went to a very old favorite, Tortilla Jack's. I suppose the familiar foods are one of the things I like about going to Topeka, and I did make the rounds.
Thursday evening I spent with Bret. We ate at Annie's, an old favorite for the potato wedges and chicken gravy, as well as the Alouette burger, a burger with Alouette herbed cheese and sweet pickles. Bret seems to be doing well enough, but is experiencing a lot of fatigue from the HIV drugs.
Friday was going-home day, and I took my co-worker up to KCI, but not without several detours. We stopped in Lawrence for lunch at Free State Brewery, which was pronounced "very good", and then to Jayhawk Spirit for KU souveniers. It turns out that Todd likes collegiate sports so much that he totes up contact with big colleges, and having KU so close at hand was for him an unexpected bennie. I drove us up to the campus on 12th Street - the steepest - and demonstrated to him, that yes, I did walk up hill to school both ways when a student at KU.
The trip to KCI was a not-so-cleverly disguised ruse to gain barbeque from the BBQ capital of the US. After flailing about a bit along I-70 through Kansas City, I managed to find Arthur Bryant's. The place smelled like heaven. I spent $60 on two slabs of ribs and two pounds of smoked meats. Mission accomplished, I headed west.
I was to pick up some of Chris' grandfather's tools from Chris' mom on Friday night. We went out to dinner at a little place in Oakland, La Siesta. It's a hole in a wall, a resturant in a house in a residential neighborhood. You wouldn't find it if you weren't looking for it. The chili con queso was real cheese, not the pasturized stuff that is featured in most Mexican resturants. I thouroughly enjoyed the CCQ on top of my tamales - not to mention the chips. I left Jan's at 8:30, and skipped a little further west.
I do intend to pick up plants in Kansas that I can't get here in Denver. For a couple years in a row I was able to get pansies in Victorian colors, and I always get my tomatoes from there, since I like to plant early. So I had one more stop before leaving Topeka. I wanted to check out the plants at Lowe's. Alas, I found no suitable tomatoes (all too long season) but did get two butterfly bushes. And some lilies, Sunday being Easter. Madonna lilies are a period species, and I can always drop them into the period garden.
It was 9:30 when I checked out. I had checked out of my hotel room that morning, and so had no Topeka reservations. I headed west, knowing that I probably wouldn't get very far, but feeling that a few hours closer to Denver would give me some pad time before I had to have the car back on Saturday.
Leaving Topeka on Friday night, the Flint Hills were again on fire. Some of the flames seemed to come right up to the highway, and in the dark, the glow of distant fires was ever-present on the horizon. Once, to find out how thick the smoke was, I flipped the AC over to intake outside air, but shut that off in a hurry. I wonder what it might have looked like in the daylight, remembering the Coal Seam fire a couple of years ago in Glenwood Springs.
I made it all the way to Russell before pulling off for the night. Only two and a half hours closer to Denver, but Saturday was to be a whole new driving adventure. I was glad I started on Friday night.
posted by Melanie Unruh-Bays at
1:52 PM
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