Lawrence, KS

"Begone, before someone drops a house on you, too!"

April 29, 2022 - Lawrence, KS

A FitzLab Climate Model city. “Lawrence's climate in 2080 will feel most like today's climate near Gainesville, Texas. The typical summer in Gainesville, Texas is 6.4°F (3.5°C) warmer and 35.9% drier than summer in Lawrence.”

We tend to focus on how temperature and precipitation will change, as our atmosphere becomes more energetic. But I find my questions growing to include things like wind, air quality, and weather events on this trip. Spring is the windiest time of year in the US, but its constant presence makes me consider it in ways I never had before.

Morning at Clinton State Park is relatively quiet, and very pretty. A flock of wild turkeys visits our campsite. I ask Liesl if she’ll let me sleep in this morning, and she does. We go back to bed and wake again a little after 8.

Birdsong here is both unfamiliar and nostalgia-inducing. Some I recognize—the Blue Jays in particular, so different from the Scrub Jays of California. Others I’ve never known how to identify.

I am eager to see some of Lawrence, and I’m fortunate to have a guide—a former co-worker I haven’t seen in years. Through the power of LinkedIn (ugh), I was reminded that he was now in Lawrence, so I’d reached out to ask for recommendations when planning the trip. We go to lunch downtown, at the Ladybird Diner. It’s such a treat to sit down at a cafe, have interesting conversation, and enjoy deliciously prepared food. I enjoy my rest-stop almond-butter-and-raisin sandwiches with Liesl also, but I am grateful for a change. My friend and I are both interested in the work of Jon Young and in ecopsychology in general; I have not met many others who share this intersection of interest in nature connection while being very immersed in the world of software and high tech.

Liesl gets a lot of love from Lawrence. One fellow asks to snap her photo for the Lawrence Weiner Dogs Facebook page. At the Lucky Dog Pet Bakery, she also gets a social media snap—and, of course, some delicious treats. I enjoy these opportunities for her to be the center of attention. It seems to perk up her mood and, hopefully, make up for some of the weird life away from her usual routines.

I could fall in love with Lawrence, other than its climate. The Raven Bookstore is filled with interesting (and sometimes radical) reading (also dog-friendly, as long as you get along with cats). Liesl and the shop cat bump noses cordially; as usual, Liesl is nonplussed and the larger cat doesn’t know quite what to think. We walk on, noting other cute shops.

Outside of one of them, a little girl, maybe four or five years old, kneels on the sidewalk in bunny ears, holding her hands like little paws in front of her. I see her eyes on Liesl. “Are you a bunny?” I ask. She nods; obviously, bunnies can’t talk. “Would you like to meet a little dog?” She nods again, and I take Liesl over for some petting. I wish Liesl had been more excited about the bunny in return, but we thank bunny and continue on our way.

Downtown Lawrence is very much like other towns I’ve loved…Bloomington, IN, and Sebastopol come to mind. The outer areas are more like Santa Rosa, with all of the usual stores that line the streets of every other single town in the US. It makes sense to me, being here, why this would be recommended to me through internet quizzes and the like.

It would have been nice to have more time to explore Lawrence, and my friend is full of great suggestions for birding areas and other points of interest. But I am especially grateful for the connection to like-hearted folks.

When Liesl and I return to the campsite, I intend to work for a while and I do. But I also peek in on the current weather forecast; I know rain is coming, and last I looked, the severe thunderstorms were tracking quite a bit south.

Things, though, have changed, and shifted north. Lawrence is just on the edge of the area of most concern.

Should I leave early, or ride it out in the tent? I put the question to Twitter (of course!), but sort through it on my own. On one hand, I’m confident in the ability of Agnes to shelter us through a pretty good storm…and riding it out will undoubtedly make for a better story.

On the other hand, what is the quality of my night going to be like? I was a kid who used to lay awake during thunderstorms, anxiously listening for the train. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I’m going to do tonight if I stay. Then I’ll be tired and cranky in the morning, and have wet camping gear to pack.

Why suffer? I set Liesl in the car and pack up Agnes and everything else. When I offer Liesl a short walk before leaving, she refuses to walk anywhere, and only wants to get back in the car. Off we go, under dark skies.

Music is one of the pleasures of car trips. I didn’t have the luxury of lining up special music to listen to for this one, but dug around the visor and found some old CDs, including one mammoth MP3 collection of all my favorite folk, country, and bluegrass. It seeps into my brain like a drug, and makes me smile with little synchronicities. Wichita rolls up just outside of Hays, KS, and Kansas City plays as we approach under storm clouds in Missouri. 

I watch for storm chase vehicles going in the other direction, but am pretty sure they’re already south, probably staged in Oklahoma.

I’d like to see a tornado out on the empty great plains someday, despite my fear. But I’m happy about the decision I made, and spend some time thinking about how that decision-making is different when traveling with others.

The worst of the storms do pass to the south, though the thunderstorms in Lawrence are enough that my friends there express some gladness that I decided to avoid them. 

A narrow but violent tornado twists through Andover, KS, about 120 miles away, as the cow flies, from where I was staying.

On the same night, three young meteorology students die after their vehicle hydroplanes on the way home from tornado chasing, and observing another tornado near Herrington, KS. Storm chasing is fully as problematic as it is exciting. And there is no denying that it is a part of our zeitgeist and future.

Just after crossing the Iowa border and we find a quaint family-run hotel in Osceola where Liesl, Thirsty, Agnes, and I get good rest, far from lions, tigers and bears (oh my!), or witches with flying monkeys, or disturbing flying cows.