South Texas in February

My most recent trip to Texas lasted eight days, most of them in San Antonio, though there was a foray into the Hill Country. One fine thing about South Texas in February is that it isn’t northern Illinois in February. There’s nothing quite like arriving at the airport and stepping out into night air that’s about 40 degrees Fahrenheit warmer than the septentrional place you left. Not that it isn’t winter in both places, just that a South Texas winter isn’t going to be consistently cold, like an Illinois summer isn’t going to be consistently hot.

It’s also green in South Texas. Or greenish. The grass isn’t hiding under a coat of white, and there’s been enough rain this year to make it green. Some bushes have leaves, but most trees still do not. A few flowers, the early spring pioneers of the area, are budding. Despite occasional outbursts of cold weather, snow is just a rumor, rather than an active nuisance.

Most of the time I visited family or worked. But I did get out to see a few new things, and no matter how familiar you think you are with a place, there’s always something new. Such as a cluster of unkempt cemeteries east of downtown San Antonio, or a 26-foot copper-roofed gazebo designed by Jalisco architect Salvador de Alba Martina, or a bat roost in Kendall County, or a small state park I’d never heard of — Old Tunnel SP, only a park in recent decades.

Also, I saw a few things I’ve seen before, sometimes uncountably often, but gave them new thought. Such as the Sunset Ridge shopping center neon sign.

Sunset Ridge, San Antonio, Feb 2015At about 110,000 square feet, Sunset Ridge dates from the development of its part of San Antonio in the 1950s. Or so I think, because it looks like it’s from that period, it’s historically plausible, and I myself remember it almost that far back: 1968 (and my brothers remember it even earlier that decade). Sunset Ridge, which is within walking distance of my mother’s house, has many old associations for me. Such as the Winn’s that used to be there. It was a Five & Dime, part of a well-known chain in this part of the country, but now long gone, so long ago that it wasn’t even Walmart that killed it off.

I’d never given the sign much thought. It was simply the Sunset Ridge sign. When I looked at the sign during this visit, I thought mid-century commercial neon, a holdover from an increasingly remote time, and increasingly rare.