May 2004
Happy Trails
From wildflowers to wine, a trip to Bryan-College Station made for a poetic journey.
The day started with the stuff of bad poetry—blues skies, rays of sunshine, chirping birds, a spring in my step. Iambic pentameter or not, the morning proved ideal for hopping in my car, rolling the windows down, cranking the radio up, and hitting the road. The destination for this glorious-day road trip: Bryan-College Station.
I've found that most of the poetic language used to describe the Bryan-College Station area involves words like "whoop" and "maroon," or phrases such as "how many Aggies does it take." But since I neither went to school in this land of Aggies, nor does my blood bleed burnt orange, the interpretation of this trip will involve none of that—just words that speak to an appreciation of wildflowers, world leaders, and wine.
From my home in Austin, I headed out east on U.S. 290. The roadside was dotted with reds, oranges, yellows, and blues—the palette of wildflower color and indisputable evidence that springtime in the Hill Country is arguably one of the loveliest convergences of time and place in all of Texas. I detoured a bit from the U.S. 290-Texas Highway 21 route I'd initially planned when I saw a road sign. "Fifty-nine miles to Brenham," it read, and although it was mid-morning, I thought to myself, "Ooh, ice cream!" Brenham, after all, is home to the Blue Bell Creameries, and I knew that if I could make one of the facility tours, I could also get a free scoop or two. Sadly, this stanza in my expedition was soon shaped by another sign, one awaiting my arrival at the creamery; it said, "No tours today." So instead of eating ice cream, I strolled through Brenham's quaint downtown, packed with antiques shops, book stores, gift emporiums, and banks.
Back on the road, I continued along wildflower-laden 290 until I reached Texas Highway 105, which took me past the birthplace of the state (Washington-on-the-Brazos) and onto Texas Highway 6, which is a straight shot into College Station, otherwise referred to as Aggieland. I wasn't interested in touring Texas A&M, but I did want to see the George Bush Presidential Library and Museum, which is on A&M's campus. Lucky for me, numerous signs within the city limits led me right to 41's doorstep (so to speak). As its name suggests, the Bush library and museum is both a house of research and a house of showcase. Giving refuge to more than 38 million documents (some personal, most professional) and 60,000 artifacts (campaign buttons, the swivel chair from his days in the Oval Office, a large section of the Berlin Wall), this archive was built for research geeks and everyday tourists. In addition to roaming through the standard museum display, which traces every Bush chapter, from Yale baseball player to Desert Storm president, I also enjoyed the temporary exhibit "Fashioning Art: Handbags by Judith Leiber." It's not every day you get to see a bejeweled purse entitled "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil Monkey with Crystal Rhinestones (1992)."
