The baubles of nature gather in the gutters, the tenuous grip of acorns and oak galls loosened by the encroachment of autumn and by gravity and by the winds that blow across the arid and dusty scape of West Texas.
A venerable Escarpment Live Oak grows at the busy corner of Front Avenue and Main Street, the surrounding concrete sidewalks and asphalt parking lot heaving upwards above the brunt of roots in protest.
It will shade the occasional pedestrian as they wait for the light to change, allowing them to cross one of the remnants of the once-busy Bankhead Highway, an early artery of transportation that stretched, albeit lazily, from Washington D.C to San Diego.
In pre-Interstate days in Texas, it was also known as US 80, and a good portion of its Lone Star State length was laid parallel to the Texas & Pacific mainline.
In today’s Midland, Texas, it is still referred to as Highway 80, but Business I-20 signs are also posted along its route through The Tall City of The Plains in The Heart of the Permian Basin.
When the Texas & Pacific railroad built west across the southern reaches of the Llano Estacado in the 1880s, few trees other than mesquite and the occasional desert willow grew in the dry land. Any water that could be found was usually harsh and salty. Alkali sacaton and sand dropseed grasses grew well in the sandy soils, as did yucca and wispy sand sage. Where the terrain became more rocky, saltbush and creosote and desert olive flourished.
Little in the land grew more than waist high.
The humans that inhabited the area were hearty souls.
In time, they scratched out an existence
To the uninitiated, the vast land area that is Texas and the ecological diversity that is harbored within those boundaries is simply unimaginable.
Over 50 species of oak trees are native to Texas. Of those, only the heartier varieties grow west of the Balcones Escarpment, the high rocky limestone soils of the Edwards Plateau simply not being supportive of deep-root growth that allows White oaks and Post oaks and Water oaks to thrive in the eastern portions of the state.
Quercus virginiana, the Coastal Live oaks, flourish east of the Balcones and down through the coastal savannah, the age of some specimens reaching into the hundreds of years.
But in the Texas Hill country and in the semi-arid and arid regions of West Texas, the Quercus fusiformis or Texas Live Oak, is the predominant species of oak, and is well-suited to landscape applications in the Permian Basin. Like all oaks, it will drop its acorns in the fall, along with the curious oak galls, but is semi-evergreen in nature, maintaining leaf growth throughout the year.
It's 4:05 pm on the afternoon of October 10, 2025, and although Fall officially arrived weeks ago, it is still hot in Midland, Texas. The driver of a Nissan Armada on Main Street has stopped for the light at Front Avenue---The Bankhead Highway---the windows rolled up and the air conditioner keeping the interior at a pleasant 68 degrees. Noticeable is the shiny black paint absent the layer of dust so characteristic of West Texas, signaling a recent trip to Mighty Wash or Apex or one of the other drive-thru car washes that stay busy keeping cars clean.
The crew of SD70ACe 8788, itself in need of a run through the wash rack, also rides in air-conditioned comfort as they have the con at the head end of a container train rolling west across Main Street.
I-2 Texas-types and shiny M-1 Mountains, their boiler jackets glistening with the characteristic gray-green paint, once rolled through here under a canopy of oil smoke, until Swamp Holly Orange Geeps put them out of work.
Now, other than the occasional foreign-road visitor, the parade is a monotony of tired and scruffy Armor Yellow and Harbormist Gray.
Little trace of the once-proud Texas & Pacific remains today.
But a tree grows in Midland---
A sapling---
An acorn that found refuge from the street sweepers, the heartiness of the Texas Live Oak species allowing it to germinate and sprout in the harsh conditions of a crack in the curb---
Struggling to maintain its meager existence, hoping a weed eater-armed city maintainer doesn’t notice.
Little things happen that few notice.
Especially in the desert.
Or the gutter of a street.
Life always finds a way.
---RAM
Rick Malo©2025