I wandered recently to downtown McKinney, Texas, my goal to see the inside of the former Collin County Courthouse. Now used to host live theater and small concerts, it is an historic building that for years I had seen only from the outside. From the ice cream crank-off to visits from family, friends, and for a photo shoot, I saw it as a centerpiece getting lost in the past while renovations went on all around it.

My vision, it seems, was lacking.

I parked less than a block off the square, across the street from a staircase that always catches my eye but has eluded my camera. Not content merely to take a few shots of it from below, I carefully ascended the iron helix and snapped a few from the top. The weather was so nice I could have sat there all day watching the town bustle past.

Down from my perch, I crossed the street to the old courthouse and entered the basement doors. Straight ahead I saw several women, most of them sitting on the floor, working to decorate a room in Relay for Life banners.

“May I help you?” asked a woman as she approached.

“I’ve never been inside the courthouse and heard it was worth seeing,” I said. “Is it open for folks to just wander around?”

“Well, not really. We’re preparing for an event right now,” she said.

“Oh. Okay. I was just out on my lunch hour and thought I’d come over to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Well, I can show you around a little.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

She led me through large rooms in the basement, their original stone walls (circa 1874-6) still intact. Those rooms can be rented for $40/hour, she explained. “Full kitchen available for caterers to use,” she said, and showed me the kitchen.

A cynic might say that her purpose was becoming painfully clear, but it also was serving my purpose, so I let her continue. Let me just add that I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. In short, I was not looking particularly impressive to someone looking to sell something.

“The organ in the performance hall is one of only two working Wurlitzers in Texas,” she said, leading me down the upper floor’s creaky corridor.

She opened the last door on the left. “Here are some of the organ’s parts.”

Inside was an organized mass of pipes, cymbals, and tiny circuit boards. Only the lack of a sign labeling each piece kept me from thinking I was in a museum.

She showed me office cubicle spaces for rent, furnished and wired, climate controlled, for $300/month. Some part of me wished at that moment that I had a reason to rent one. How cool would it be to work in that old building, right on the square?

After a quick stop in her office to give me some brochures, the final stop on the tour was the performance hall — featuring the same seats originally installed for courtroom spectators. With its balcony seating, it was straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird. A judge still holds court there on occasion, my guide told me as I tried to suppress images of Atticus Finch.

Highly coveted by organists in the tri-state area, the organ sat next to the entrance, nowhere near the stage. I tried to imagine which of its dizzying array of buttons and keys controlled the parts I had seen in that distant corner room.

I thanked my guide for her wonderful impromptu tour and headed back to work. Employed by the City of McKinney, apparently she did her job well. Since that day I have suggested the basement rooms as a possible party location for more than one event my wife has mentioned.

And all I wanted was to get some pictures.

 
I saw this on a walk back from my mechanic’s garage, the same day that I captured WAW Five. It made me wonder how many other countries so revere their flag that they carefully document how to display it, care for it, and dispose of it. The Veterans of Foreign Wars no doubt could teach all of us a lot about respect for country.

Nikon D50
Nikon 18-55mm f/3.5 – 5.6G AF-S ED DX
f/8
1/3200 sec
Aperture Priority
Spot Metering

(click to enlarge)

I shot this on the walk from my mechanic’s garage to work. On such a wonderful day, it didn’t even occur to me to call a co-worker to come pick me up. I smiled when I noticed that I had left my sneakers in the back of my car after a recent trip with Benjamin, and off I went. I didn’t come up with as many keepers as I did on a photographic journey along the same route, but it was a great day for a walk.

(Click to enlarge.)

 
On the way into work Thursday morning a stream caught my eye, but I didn’t have time to stop and take pictures. Come lunch time it was a welcome break for someone taking his midday meal two hours later than usual.

I parked my car next to the suburban street curb, finished my lunch, and then wandered over to the stream to see what my camera and I could do. In the picture above, note how clear the water is all the way to the bottom, and the curvature of the water where the surface tension holds up the leaves.

Because the clouds and the wind combined to give me a variety of lighting situations, I’ll be using this trip for examples in instructional posts. I haven’t written anything like that in a while.

Other “Wandering” entries:
One, Two, Three

Wandering last Thursday, I drove to the spot where Plano holds its annual Balloonfest. If nothing else, I wanted to see the area without all the crowds, food and drink vendors, and other accoutrement of a summertime festival. The signs told me it was Oak Point Park, which I recognized from earlier online research of potential local hiking destinations.

I worked my earbuds into my ears, pressed “play” for some Rilo Kiley on my music player, grabbed my camera gear, and hit the paved path toward the woods. Just a hundred feet short of a bridge crossing a wide creek, I spotted and veered onto a trail leading into the trees.

Within a minute I felt immersed. Old, tall trees towered all around. My music was at just the right level that I still could hear the remaining leaves applauding as I passed.

A few steps later I approached the edge of a high creek bank. Although October’s heavy rains were behind us, the creek rushed past, freshly fallen leaves spinning lazily on its translucent surface. On the opposite bank, a narrow strip of forest gave way to a sunlit meadow.

The trail took me back into the woods, but never wandered far before returning me creekside. Although most trees had let their leaves go, a few held on to reds, oranges, and yellows.

At each trail intersection stood a short, stocky post, its tip coming to a point similar to a whittled stick — brand new if appearances were to be believed. None bore any markings, so I’m curious to see what is done with them.

The next trail I chose led me back to a clearing, where an old tree with a forked trunk stood tall against the blue sky. Against an overcast or stormy sky it might have seemed foreboding, but I saw it as a welcome sign for me to headed back into the woods for a few more minutes of escape.

As one who grew up in the Ozark foothills and has lived near them or the Appalachians all his life, I always have equated outdoor activities with mountains. At 800 acres, Oak Point Park is only about 40 smaller than New York’s Central Park, and provides not only a great escape from the office’s confines, but a reminder that an enjoyable walk in the woods does not require hills. It definitely is a place I would like to take my family.

This area is a challenge for finding fall colors. Most trees featuring colorful leaves are very young ornamentals — a bit of a letdown considering the beautiful forests aflame with red, orange, and yellow back in our Arkansas home. Doing my best with the noon light, I captured a tree with yellow leaves beside a white fence.

A few days later, I noticed a path running through a narrow strip of woods near a stream. I made my way there by way of a bank parking lot. Although I didn’t come away with much, I enjoyed the 75-degree weather.

Rewarding photos or not, I escaped the four walls of the office just long enough to stretch my legs and focus on things more distant than 18 inches.

Lately, I have gravitated toward one particular stretch of road. I never know exactly what I’m trying to find until I’m there looking, which goes a long way toward preventing disappointment.

One day as I drove past a small strip mall, I noticed a sign that was new to me. It immediately made me want to go there and meet the folks who worked at, and, with any luck, owned a shop with such a great name. I also wanted to know exactly what it was they offered. The name alone was not a dead giveaway.

I found later that When Nerds Collide was a comic book store, and is out of business. As of May 2009, it was not, and from what I can tell, it opened in March. I’m not an expert in entrepreneurship, but is two months long enough to give a new business a go?

Maybe the former owners were able to sell their wares online. Maybe I have bumped into them at a vendor table at Star Wars Fan Days. Staring at the empty space, I resigned myself to never knowing the answers, and snapped a picture of the sign to help it live forever.