Taking The Time

Thursday as I was driving back from being with my son, I decided to cancel my ‘get there syndrome.’  I stopped at Fort Reno and was disappointed that the museum wasn’t open. But that didn’t stop me exploring the buildings. I’m not big on forts but I do like history.

The thought of walking the grounds with a bum knee and it was already hot and humid was not something I wanted to do. Once I was going though, I felt more drawn to certain buildings than others. An ancient cottonwood tree drew me like a magnet. There was a row of them lining what was once the parade ground.

How many soldiers lay in the shade of this one tree? Did they share their plans, dreams, fears of what was to come?

The smell of leather and horse sweat wafted on the breeze from the old calvary barn. For the first time in quite a while, I missed riding my horse. If I could, I’d have taken Gambler–tricks and all–and ridden across the sea of green grass. There’s something not quite so romantic about the little red RAV bumping along.

Life gets so crazy, and at times I just want to step off, slow down, discover what lies just beyond the next hill.


11 thoughts on “Taking The Time

  1. Great pictures, Meg. Thanks for taking us back in time, reliving things that might have been. Even as a child, I always wanted to see what was just beyond the next hill . . . then found it was never enough because there were hills beyond the one I’d just climbed.

  2. I love cottonwood trees. Maybe I need to plant one in my yard.

    I grew up on the old original Route 66 — learned to ride my bike and skateboard there, played jacks there a few times (I wasn’t the brightest kid in the world back then), and wondered why the heck people in old, old cars came around every year to drive it together in a long parade. It was just a road to us.

    I’ve never had get-there syndrome. The journey has almost always been more fun than the destination. My dad loved to go for long drives to no place in particular, and I think I inherited that. (Got his sense of direction, too, thank heavens, since Mom didn’t have one.)

    • Marilyn–
      Your adventurous nature is just one of the things I love about traveling with you!! Your sense of direction is a plus if I’m driving. BTW: I’m smashing my Garmin after she led me astray yet again. 😦

      How neat you lived on the original Route 66!!!

  3. Meg,

    It’s always nice to pull off the road and do a little exploring. We often don’t take the time to see the interesting things around us.

    Where is Ft Reno? I’ve never heard of it either.

    And, Marilyn, you could plant one, but it’d take 100 years for a Cottonwood to get that big in your yard!! spw

    • Hey, Sandee–
      Ft Reno is off I-40 close to El Reno. I noticed it the last time I went to visit Tim.
      When Don & I went to Big Bend, we stopped at Ft Davis. He sat on the porch while I explored to my heart’s content.

      I have a cottonwood tree in my front yard–never put undiluted RoundUP on an exposed tree root! Cottonwoods have a smell and the leaves rustle like no other. Brings me back to my childhood.

  4. Hi, Megster —

    Marilyn was telling me about you two planning a Route 66 road trip — all the way to sunny California! You could call it The Twisted Twins Gone West! 😉

    You will *LOVE* San Diego, too. It is soooooo cool! There is so much to see and do there!


  5. They are great pictures, Meg.

    At first when I read this post I thought about our summer vacations and how we get on the highway, bypassing all the small towns as we hurry towards our final destination. I thought about all the family bonding and memories we miss out on trying to get to a place to create artificial memories when we should just be enjoying each other.

    But then I thought about my latest issue with writing and putting a story under the bed. I was so focused on GETTING THERE, I forgot to just enjoy the process.

    I know, I know…snake… my hind end… bitten. I get it. I get it. 😀

  6. I do the “get away from it all” occasionally. I like to drive around, seeing what there is to see. That’s how I found Skiatook Lake.

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