I drove out of Dallas for Clifton this morning, along an eerily deserted southbound I35. Northwards was a different story, as endless cars jammed into the metrosprawl.
Soon enough, I was heading down 219 into Clifton and I like that drive. The road winds along and then the ground dips away to reveal a westwards vista. My pictures never do it justice, but still, it's dramatic, especially if you're used to the endless flatness of significant parts of Texas. Everything looks weirdly lush and green at the moment; that will change soon enough.
Clifton is a well put together little town and worth the visit, if you're in the area. It has a decent Western Store, an excellent feed/tack store, and several restaurants and shops. It's not boarded up and reverting to nature, unlike other towns, which I won't name.
But I didn't knock about the town, I just went to the funeral and paid my respects. The service was led by a young Lutheran pastor, who seemed a pleasant clergyman, although he kept saying, "Christ is Risen! Alleluia!" apparently in the hope that the mourners would respond, joyously, with, "He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!" I know, it's Eastertide, but I could have done without that.
I drove back to Dallas and discovered that a rifle barrel had arrived, which was pleasing. My friends, who had been hunting in Clifton as I was at the funeral, managed to shoot a pig and some rabbits. Well done!
God bless,
LSP
