I love signs - whether they are crazy, serious, elegant, nostalgic or unintentionally funny. This week I'm starting a new series where I will share some of my favorites. Is there an interesting sign near you that I should come and photograph or you think I would like? Let me know in the comments.

 

Route 66 is a hobby of mine. I've driven the entire length, from Chicago to Santa Monica (once I drove from Tulsa to Santa Rosa New Mexico because I wanted an omelette.) This sign near Miami Oklahoma always makes me smile. Finally, one day, I stopped, and yes, there is nine feet of cracked pavement. One of my friends calls it the "World's Shortest Drag Strip." 

When I had someone in the hospital at the old St. John's in Joplin, I passed by the former home of "Elsie's Homemade Tater Rolls" several times a week. Nothing but a small foundation left now, but I bet her tater rolls were something!

  

Not much to laugh about in Joplin this last year. However, I spotted this sign at one of the FEMA trailer camps on the north side of the city. And, no, it is not a joke. The sign in the background reads "EY Street."  I have to confess, if I lived here, that sign would mysteriously disappear one night, never to be seen again, unless you came into my office. Hey, I didn't do it. I just thought about it!

Welcome to "Hidden Treasures of Kansas." I'm a transplanted Californian who made my way to Kansas with stops in Chicago, Virginia, and Oklahoma. I came to Fort Scott in 2001 and still marvel at the architectural treasures tucked away on the side streets.

My work takes me around southeast Kansas and I take the back roads whenever I can. My wanderings are always rewarding. A graceful house. A charming cottage. A stunning church. A gothic courthouse. Even the abandoned and faded buildings have an air of dignity and mystery to them. Sometimes it's just a bit of fancy woodwork or a stone carving that makes an otherwise ordinary building unique. Sadly, too many of these treasures are being lost to time, neglect, and shoddy repairs.

Armed with my trusty camera, I'll take you along on my wanderings and give some suggestions on places you might like to visit. Where I can, I will throw in some historical tidbits. Be prepared for some humor as well. Not everything in Kansas is graceful.

If you see something and know more of the story, please leave a comment. The heritage of Kansas is shared and everyone has a piece of the story.

Victorian mansion:  Fort Scott, Kansas 

At first, you'll see quite a bit of my hometown, Fort Scott, as I sort through and catalog all of my photos. This stunning and immaculately maintained Victorian mansion is located on the 500 block of South Judson Street in Fort Scott. Tucked away on a quiet side street, this painted lady with her fancy rose marble pillars is just the first of many hidden treasures in Kansas.

Nearly a century ago, a family left their home country of Germany and moved to rural Kansas to find their American dream…of sugar beet farming. This family, my family, learned to speak English, farm on new soil, drive cars and adapt to American life on the eve of World Wars where Germans were not the most popular folk. But they did it, and Kansas was their canvas. As kids grew up and farming wasn’t paying them any favors, they moved away from Kansas (and the farm) to more stable jobs out East and in the Northwest. One lone family member remained in Kansas and still resides in Cottonwood Falls.

I was sitting in my high-rise Chicago apartment one day pondering the important things in life: what will I have for dinner, what will I do this weekend, how will I get downtown during rush hour, where do I want to start my career? Being in the magazine industry, you are almost expected to start in New York, but I was not about to have it.

Every few weeks I called my Nanna and made her tell me stories about the farm. One summer we even took a road trip to see the (30 person) town she lived in, the soil she sowed, the one-room house she and her family occupied. A little seed had been planted years ago. I had farm dreams. So when graduation neared and resumes were being sent, I couldn’t ignore the prodding that told me to nurture that seed and see what happens. New York wasn’t going to be the place to do it, not even Chicago would do. Kansas felt right, and soon, it was the only place I could imagine myself.

I phoned up my family and told them I wanted to reinstate the family farm. We had been out of the soil for long enough. We were farmers when we came to this country, and we should never forget what makes us who we are. Most of the phone calls fell silent on the other end. “You want to do what??” I want to learn how to farm. My grandma and her siblings who came from that same German farm were touched that I wanted to follow my ancestor’s journey. The more and more I think about it, the more I can’t see myself anywhere else.

While I don’t have a piece of land (yet), I constantly daydream about what my family must have experienced out here in Kansas. Nanna reassures me, “It’s a very good life. A hard life. But a very good life.” So for now, I’ll keep making her tell me stories of the farm, beg my editors to let me help out on their farms, and edit stories about things I wish I was doing. Fishing anyone?

Although most think of Kansas in reference to golden wheat fields, there is another aspect of Kansas that anchors our history as a state – the prairie.  That is the ecosystem that was conquered by the plow; it is the native land that was lost as the grasses became farmland and eventually cities. It is that part of Kansas that we are now trying to restore and preserve.  The prairie has stolen our hearts.

It is not easy making a living on ranch land, especially if it is done right and with conservation practices to protect the grasses.  New sciences now tell us that some of our old practices are destructive and we are trying to both profit and conserve.  Dioum, a poet and conservationist, once wrote,

“In the end, we will conserve only what we love.

We will love only what we understand.

We will understand only what we are taught.”  

And so I joined my fellow naturalists this week to learn about the prairie – the biota, the ecosystem, the preservation of the precious root systems while grazed, and the need for pollination.  I already love what I have – even if it is only thirty-eight acres of mid and short grass prairie – and now, I want to understand it.  It is precious to me, as a shelter for animal and bird life, and as a remnant of the Great Plains Prairie that I am a part of.   

The tallgrass prairie is well known and is now a national preserve.  There is now a Prairie Discover Center near Junction City ( http://www.flinthillsdiscovery.org/index.php) and there is a  Konza Prairie Center (http://keep.konza.ksu.edu/visit/).  This weekend I will be a volunteer at the prairie preservation effort of “Symphony in the Flint Hills,” www.symphonyintheflinthills.org), a unique and unforgettable esperience for all who participate. 

Our Kansas prairies are a personal interest - I hope we each have one that holds this precious earth as sacred land. My efforts go to prairies, but also all of nature.  We hold that responsibility in our hands as earth dwellers.  I am enjoying doing my tiny little part to leave a good earth to our children so that they too will conserve because they love - because the understand - because they were taught. Our examples and our teaching are what we have to give.

 I am very excited to have a part in a new book called "Begin Again: 150 Kansas Poems." It is part of the celebration of the anniversary of Kansas. The Kansas poet laureate solicited poetry from around the state, and, much to my surprise my poem was accepted. I think that this book would be of interest to anyone with an eye for poetry, or an interest in all things rural. It is available from Woodley Press: Department of English, Washburn University, Topeka Kansas, 66621. The price is $15. But here, for free, is my poem in the book, and I think in the future I will offer a couple of unpublished poems.  

Into the Land of the Post Rock  

“When we build let us think that we build forever. Let it not be for present delight nor present use alone. Let it be such work as our descendants will thank us for; and let us think, as we lay stone on stone, that a time is to come when those stones will be held sacred because our hands have touched them, and that men will say, as they look upon the labor and wrought substance of them, ‘See! This our father did for us.’” ~ John Ruskin  

It looks as if a drill has marred the sides 

otherwise so straight and even 

seashells imbedded therein 

rumors of a long-ago sea. 

 

These are the marks of settlers who upon finding 

lots of rock, not su much timber 

set about the turn the Greenhorn Limestone 

into fence posts in Ellsworth, Westfall, Beverly 

towns of grandparents' past. 

 

The ingenious pioneers drilled holes 

filled them with water 

and waited for the winter freese to split the rock in two 

Then, slinging the 500-pound posts 

under horse-drawn wagons, hauled the posts into place. 

 

I've seen photos of the laborers - 

wearing overalls, hats pushed back, taking their ease at noon, 

eating lunches made by their German wives or 

posed with an uncomfortable pride around the hewn rocks. 

 

My own grandfather 

cut posts in the 1920s, 

when he was newly married, 

with a family to support. 

 

He went with his father and uncles to cut the rock 

working with sledge hammers and wedges 

in the winter when the carpentry work  

and Irv Elemnan's blacksmich shop were slow. 

 

Today, we move the posts with a tractor 

and sand-blast on names for decoration. 

But customers come with admiration for the pioneers 

and want ones with wire imbedded still. 

 

With each rock we move, I think, 

of the men in the wind-swept winter, 

keep moving to sayt warm, 

to keep food ont he table; 

and thoughts turn to my grandfather - 

tacturn, esteemed, indefatigable. 

 

I look for the marks of his hand.  

 

   

 From my teeny little city lot in Ohio... 

  

to expansive views that stretch for miles in Kansas.  

Next week will mark 3 years since I left my city life behind for a very rural existence in south central Kansas.  Any regrets, you ask?  My answer: None whatsoever!!  Who in the world wouldn't want to trade a postage stamp sized city lot for 27 acres of rural life?!  Three years later, I can't imagine living in the city ever again.

 

and this....
 

 

and this.  

 

 Three years later, I'm still mesmerized by our "forever" views out here on the Kansas prairie.

No tall buildings to block my view of spectacular sunsets and sunrises that make me want to pinch myself - is this for real?

 Do I really live here?
 

 

 

   

In Ohio, we got lots and lots (and lots) of lake-effect snow.
 

 

Snowed in!  -Ohio city lot.  

 Kansas snow storms create fantastically beautiful landscape vistas, unlike any my city neighborhood could deliver.

 

A serene snowy sunrise in Kansas.  

A frosty mare.  

 

 A snowy chocolate lab. 

  

A frosty tree break.  

And I've seen creatures out here I would NEVER have seen in Ohio...

 

This young barn owl snuck into our shop and became entangled in fly tape. 

 It was quite an adventure for us to get a blanket over him and untangle the fly tape off him!

 

Large bull snake in back yard - it's best to wear your Muck boots out here.

 

A large wolf spider reminds me again -  wear my Muck boots and not my flip-flops.

 

My first experience with ticks - they are truly disgusting!

 

Barn swallows guard their babies.

 

A mama starling feeds her babies.

 

I never tire of watching our neighbor's longhorn cattle and checking out the new babies each year.

And finally, the view from our back yard.  

 

 So my 3 year retrospective just reminds me how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful landscape. It would truly be difficult for me to ever return to city living again.  I am content to live the rest of my days here in the country.

 

Will I ever get used to these big, beautiful Kansas skies?

I mean, will I wake up one day and NOT notice them, perhaps be totally bored {yawn} by them and begin to take them for granted?

I sure hope not.

I have lived in south central Kansas for a year and a half now, and I am still fascinated and struck with awe at the vast and beautiful prairie skies.

We may not have an oceanfront view, or a delightful mountaintop oasis, but I adore our wide-open prairieland view! It’s infinitely better than sitting on my former city home’s front porch, hearing the cars roar down my little side street as a go-around, or the neighbors across the street yelling profanities at each other … well, you get what I’m saying, don’t you?

If you have a dream to live in the country, then make it happen! Forget all the reasons you “can’t”… if you dream it, then dare to do it!

I had a wonderfully relaxing experience the other day. I went on a nature walk with a friend of mine. Living in the city, this was a real treat for me – and I didn’t even have to venture far from home!

The Kansas Museum of History is located on the west side of Topeka. The area surrounding the museum was preserved as a natural habitat for Kansas creatures such as white tail deer and wild turkey. Four different trails meander through native grasses and woodlands. Signs along the way tell visitors about the natural and cultural history of the area.

My friend and I decided to take the east and north trails. As we walked and talked, I felt the stress of the previous weeks completely melt away. Feeling like I was far removed from the everyday busyness of life had a calming effect on me.

I felt quite adventurous as we walked along the mulch-covered trail. I heard something rustling in the grass as we walked pass the native grass area. I wondered what it could be. I could only imagine what it must have been like for Native Americans to stalk a deer or turkey in the tall grass. I wondered what the pioneers thought when they first set eyes on this land with its rolling hills and shoulder-high grass waving in the wind.

Once we passed the prairie grass, we entered into a wooded area. The sound of birds and water babbling in a nearby creek could be heard through the trees. We walked along the creek bank and crossed over wooden bridges sheltered by a canopy of trees. Red berries were abundant in this area and I wondered whether or not they were poisonous.

Even though the fall colors had passed, the nature trail was still a sight to behold. It was like having my own little patch of wilderness just a stone’s throw from the noise and activity of city life.

The sun was just starting to set as my friend and I ended our walk and headed back to the museum parking lot. As we stood by my car admiring the sunset, we heard a honking noise. We looked up and saw a gaggle of Canada Geese heading our direction. When they flew overhead, we could see the sun reflected on their underbelly, casting an orange hue on their white feathers.

It was getting dark, but I didn’t want to leave this magical place. Reluctantly, I headed home distracted by the emblazoned evening sky. The sun, reflected on the swirling gray clouds, created a colorful palette of purple and pink. I secretly wished the buildings and telephone lines weren’t in the way so I could take a picture.

I once heard a lady, interviewed on a local news program, say she had been to beautiful locales such as Africa, but she thought the most beautiful sunsets she had ever seen were in Kansas.

There have been a number of times I’ve wanted to move to the mountains, but when I experience Kansas at its best, I never want to leave. This is my home; this is where I was born. I’m proud to be a Kansan in spite of the jokes about Dorothy and Toto. Every time I watch “The Wizard of Oz,” I know in my heart Dorothy was right when she said, “There’s no place like home.”

In the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie “Skylark” (a sequel to “Sarah: Plain and Tall”), Sarah, who was from Maine, couldn’t understand why her husband Jacob wouldn’t give up on his Kansas farm during a terrible drought. A neighbor of Jacob and Sarah’s said, “Your name has to be written on this land to understand.” I know what she meant. My paternal and maternal great-grandparents homesteaded in western Kansas. My grandparents married and raised their families here. My roots are deep in the Kansas soil. My name is written on this land.

At the risk of sounding like a tourism commercial, if you’ve never been to Kansas, I encourage you to come experience the culture, history and all the sights and sounds the Sunflower State has to offer. You won’t be disappointed.

To learn more about the great state of Kansas, visit these Web sites:

State of Kansas Travel and Tourism

State of Kansas

Kansas Museum of History

Visit Topeka, Inc.

I-70 Kansas Main Street America

After my walk on the nature trail, I feel like a different person. My outlook on life is once again on the positive side and I feel better emotionally, physically, mentally and even spiritually. I seem to have more energy for work and the things that need to be done once I get home.

I hope to return for another peaceful walk on the nature trail before winter sets in. I’d like to take the south and west trails next time and visit the little one-room schoolhouse just west of the museum.

Stress can take its toll on all of us. A change in routine or a change of scenery can do wonders. It's an amazing transformation . Do you have a special spot where you like to go to get away from it all?  I’d love to hear about it.

Picture on bridge taken by Marilynn Hiegert