The climate changed, yet again, from a balmy Springlike 70 something to freezing wind and rain. It was like being in Aberystwyth instead of Texas, but you know what they say, adopt, adapt, survive.
That in mind, I pulled on a pair of sturdy G.H. Bass brogues, an Arctic Hardware fleece and a Barbour jacket, maybe label shock alone would scare our enemy the weather into submission, and ventured forth.
I walked past the Methshack, which is suffering because half of the shackers have been evicted. There it was, sitting in the rain behind a semi-urban field which no one's inclined to buy. Who knows, maybe they're waiting for the shack to be cleared before purchasing land to build on and sell.
The Yellow House wasn't looking too good either. It's famous for something, was reinvented as a bed and breakfast, which didn't work, then re-inhabited by crackheads. A friend tried to buy it last year but the deal went south because of craziness. I always ask myself, why would you paint your house yellow?
Then it was a short patrol through welfare, several shacks, a pleasantly unpaved vista and on to Montes for a late breakfast. Montes is alright and's upped its game lately, with new menus, suspiciously attentive waitresses and an extra dollar on every meal.
I ordered Huevos Rancheros, which was delicious and filling, and pondered their choice of music. Relaxed New Country as opposed to Mexican House/Techno. Curious, they're obviously trying to appeal to someone and sure enough, there were a couple of cowboys getting into the spirit of the thing.
New Country aside, the Fossil Museum was worth a look in and they seem to be getting actual, literal fossils to display to the public. Well done. It used to be a place where someone from the Metrosprawl kept his collection of vintage Cadillacs, and before that the HQ of a filling station chain which stretched to Europe, forgotten now.
Around the corner lies Franklin, broad and wide to accommodate the cotton traffic which was stolen by greed-filled globalists, and home stretch on to the Compound. A short walk, for sure, but the longest I've made since I was catapulted off the back of a mad Arab back in July.
And I tell you, it's good to get moving again, even if on a short patrol around this small Texan country haven.
God bless,
LSP
