Small town treasures

Ah, the Great Plains. Like ever moving, green waves tossed about in turbulence, the grasses never seem to cease their tempestuous dance. We've been battling a fierce headwind since 9 am, and though it's pushed me toward some cool sites--like the wonderfully antiquated Corrin school house--to be honest, I'm exhausted. By the time we get about 22 miles from Miller, I'm relieved to find the Highway Store that Bob had mentioned the night before. You'd never know it was there if someone didn't tell you. I'm told it used to be on the east side of 45, and when they moved it across the road, no one bothered to turn it around. So from the highway, it just looks like the back of a house.

In any case, I walk inside this store that looks like something straight off the set of Bonanza and soon make the acquaintance of Edna Aims, the soft spoken granny and proprietor of the establishment for 52 continuous years. Edna says the place had been going long before she got there, so I'm thinkin' it's probably over 100 years old.

The Highway Store on the border of Buffalo County

What a wealth of knowledge to be gleaned! We chat for a while, and I wish it could have been longer, but since there's not a place available to camp there, we head back out on the road. It's 11 more miles to Gann Valley and Bud's pooped, so into the cart he goes. 'Good boy.' He's done his fair share.

Now both the backpack and cart are acting like sails in the wind,  which is trying to force an early retreat. But I'll have none of it. So I stir myself against each gale, screaming out defiant challenges and imprecations: 'Come on! Is that all you got?'

Limping into town, I feel a good deal of satisfaction that I've won this round, but I know that my chagrined foe will be back to blow another  day. Some friendly fellows give me permission to camp at the community picnic area, and it's all I can do to set up the tent before passing out, at least until a spectacularly loud thunderstorm rolls through around midnight. Then, I find myself humming These Are A Few of My Favorite Things to try to get back to sleep. Meanwhile, Bud gazes intently into the flashing sky, his face awe struck one minute and terrified the next.

The register for this old school house show the first teacher, a Mr Edward Starr, beginning in 1915. The final year of operations was 1968 and the school held an average of 14 students.