Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E. Bourland Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Sunday, September 6, 2015

CWC - 7TX0 - F14 - SPS - CWC

     Just landed one day and my hangar door already opened, Austin, the lineman at Kickapoo Airport, trundled over in the tractor to help me put my V-tail away, then asked me for a joy ride. "You bet," I said, happy to show my appreciation for his professionalism and good service.
     Not long after, MyMrMallory, pilot-in-command, Austin, in the right seat, and I, in the back seat, piled in during a pleasant morning. The route MyMrMallory planned was exciting: Take off from Kickapoo and land at Danaher Airport, and, if Mac McGregor was there, we would visit with him for a while. Then, take off from Danaher and then land at Wichita Valley; then fly over to Sheppard and land at Wichita Falls Regional; from there, return to Kickapoo. Few cities can claim four airports within a ten mile radius! Wichita Falls is rich in aviation history and it delightfully shows.


         Off the port-side wing, Danaher Airport (7TX0) recently received new pavement, numbers, and stripes. (Better pictures forthcoming.)

View of the new ramp at Danaher Airport. 

Mac on the lift that he employs to reach the top of the hangar. 

Tom Danaher Estate's Baron 55 and his own v-tail, recently sold.

Tom Danaher Estate's Grumman G-44 Widgeon (top), and Nord.

          View of North Texas as we accomplish Austin's joy flight, one I would enjoy repeating any time soon.

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Give Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.