Since the hubby and I aren't the toughest of road warriors, it's a two day drive for us to travel from our East Texas home to the little home in Colorado. We delayed our leaving an extra day, due to predictions of significant snow in the high country and we made plans to alter our route to avoid Raton Pass.
Let's face it folks, no matter where you live, your version of Winter will come along in January and February. After the holidays, it seems to just slow down to a dreary, cold and grey condition. It leaves me and probably you, bored, restless and depressed. And Spring? well, that's weeks and weeks away. We're generally summer residents at our cabin, have actually never been there in the Winter. The fever of confinement and long time marriage made he and I say, "Oh my lord! We've got to get out of here." The plan, right or wrong, was made for our tiny adventure of going to the mountains in January.
On our regular trips back and forth to the cabin, we glide pass the "quaint" Bar-b-que café in the small town of Nocona, Texas. Always surrounded by cars, it just never seems to be the right time for us to stop and eat. On the first day of our trip, the scent of meat smoking drifted in with the warm air of the heater and smelled so good, as we rolled through a north Texas town. "We could make it to Nocona and try the café." We were in perfect agreement. A situation that had not existed at all in recent history.
We exited the car in a blustering and refrigerated wind and made our way into the former gas station that was now a café. Atmosphere? this place reeked of it, a certain down home redneck ambience filled the rustic establishment. A life size poster of John Wayne and various entertaining signs and wonderful aromas permeated everything. A heater glowed on one wall but the patrons never took off their coats. The locals chattered loudly of their work, the cold and other small town gossip. We ordered one plate, brisket, sausage, potato salad, coleslaw, toast and plastic forks and knives... knowing that it would be enough for at least two and staked out a small wooden table.
While awaiting the food that smelled so good, it had your stomach tight in anticipation, I took the key that was attached to the real horseshoe from the hook by the front door. Out into the cold, I hustled under the roof that had once sheltered cars pumping gas and down a long and very skinny hall. Sort of reminded me of scenes in many horror movies, dim bulb flickering above. Surprise! inside the restroom that was as clean as a facility of the age and design can be, a little old heater blazed away and it was toasty warm. Only one ceramic grate was lit by the blue flames, the other two broken and non functioning, it was doing a fantastic job. I could've lived in there for a while.
The welcome and food was great and there was a nice feeling of sharing a warm haven and meal in familiar surroundings. A great break in the day. We were laughing and chatting with strangers that didn't feel so strange, the heavy Winter clouds didn't look nearly as threatening, the wind banged around the tin roof but it felt safe and comforting inside. We kind of liked each other. Up ahead, by the next afternoon, those gorgeous white capped mountains rose into view in a cold blue haze and we would arrive at the cabin by mid afternoon. We would be opened up and warmed up in less than two hours.
A change of scenery and a change of attitude. It is truly medicine for the soul. Just because you've never tasted it, doesn't mean you won't like it. It just might be the best thing you ever tried. Go ahead, take a bite.
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