Dr. Seuss probably doesn't mind me paraphrasing his book title. I have been on many Utah highways and back roads this past year looking for birds. It is problematic, because I end up looking at everything. Birds, always, but the landscapes are enchanting, lovely, haunting or just drop dead gorgeous depending on the season, the lighting or what the sky is doing. There is the signage that captures my heart, not to mention interesting farm animals, wild animals, buildings, and yard art. I look at everything and sometimes it is overwhelming, but never disappointing.
One of the many things I look for are Welcome to (your city name here) signs. Most cities and small towns have them and they come in a wide variety from very old to very new, simple signs to works of art, and you'll find them made of wood, metal, stone...you name it. Some even look like the local fourth grade class painted them.
I like to get photos of these signs as I travel, but it is complicated by traffic and if there is actually a place to stop. Often not. I really have a hard time flying by on a freeway as I want to screech to a stop on the side of the road. Not a good idea.
So here's a photo essay of some of the places I've been this past year and where I was actually able to get the signage. Yep, I was on the road a lot, and boy howdy, it was some kind of fun!
This says Home of the Rebels, it is a bit hard to read. The Rebels are the high school mascot.
I find it kind of funny that with all the species of ducks that pass through the bird refuge, they chose to put the very common mallard on their sign. The sign is really nice at night, though.
The ever present soundtrack in my head just started playing the Beach Boys "I Get Around." Guess that is appropriate.
While I am intrigued by abandoned barns, I like barns of all kinds: big, little, plain or fancy. If they are red, it's a big bonus. There is just something about a barn. They are reminders of a simpler time and somehow make you feel like you are looking back at your roots. Walking into an old barn is a kind of mystical experience. If it is an old empty barn, seeing the structure of the huge post and beam construction can conjure up images of old cathedrals.
I had friends who turned their barn into a place for music. One end had a raised platform for musicians and all the rest was open for people to listen, sing along or dance. Some of my best memories are tied to that barn.
When the ground is covered in snow, there is something about a red barn that seems to defy winter.
There is something inherently comforting about a red barn. They seem to say everything will be okay.
