Shacking at the Compound with Rooster and the Hen

As I popped the ATM's trunk to load my matching orange luggage a burst of gravel dust billowed out and revealed just enough rocks to fill a chubby toddler paw. The seal of the trunk had been compromised in one of the two major accidents a couple years back allowing easy access to the rocks from my previous day's gravel road travel. If I would have had more time I would have driven to a quarter carwash and vacuumed the mess before loading, but my schedule did not afford me such luxuries. Hell, time was never a consideration - it was the fact that Leo was on his way to meet me at the Farmer's Kitchen for a farewell lunch.

One would think that the morsels to be absorbed first in the morning should have some semblance of a balanced meal like those Total cereal commercials in the 90s. Thinking that way is a load of horse shit.

I ordered and enjoyed an open face meatloaf sandwich smothered in what can only be described as salted liquid lard, a cup of thick coffee and a slice of the finest apple pie with a side of cheddar cheese. Leo ordered half of a chef salad.

One thing that caught my eye on my waddle back to the ATM was the fact that several handicap spots were assigned to specific citizens. Barb had a spacious corner spot with a dandy view of a mural funded by the National Endowment for the Arts.

Before the motley caravan of two hounds and my chubby self were to arrive at Uncle Rooster and Aunt Hen's compound located high above Council Bluffs, IA, there were two must sees.

Elk Horn, IA is home to the United States' only authentic functioning Danish Windmill. This fine replica of windmills seen throughout elderly women's gardens was built in 1848 over in the land of Danes, brought to Elk Horn in 1975 and opened to the public in 1976. I snapped pics of this mill of wind from afar, adhering to my promise of not paying for access.

A tourist attraction the folks of Elk Horn did make. No more than a pillagers leap away was this swell home of a viking smithy circa 900CE. Who knew that vikings designed LEED structures with green roofs and repurposed materials?

My last stop was the front yard of a swell couple in the town of Avoca, IA to see their VW Bug turned arachnid at the intersection of Chestnut and Washington. This masterpiece is the perfect keeper of the property, waking at dusk to patrol the property and ward off evil doers. I especially love the shadows that this beast throws off.

Forty minutes later I pulled into the driveway of the Compound to begin my adventures with uncle Rooster. NOTE: the Compound is not in anyway involved in a sect or does it house lunatics preparing for the end of days, rather it is the quirky home of my aunt and uncle who have housed numerous family members at the same time making it more of a commune than a compound - but compound is so much less of a hippy term.

Since I have been promising you the insane asylum grotto I will skip ahead a half dozen attractions and dive into the creepy cavern, returning to the previously scheduled program tomorrow. The thirteen or so Omahanians that I queried regarding the grotto had absolutely no clue what I was talking about, although they were aware of the old St. Joseph's Hospital.

Post shoot I poked around Creighton University's online library and stumbled upon a detail of an early 20th century St. Joseph addition complete with the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes. Vines now choke out the structure located on the edge of a parking whose entrance is on Dorcus St. between 8th and 9th.

I am quite certain that it did not look nearly as disturbing during its dedication ceremony in the summer of 1910. A screen door straight out of Deliverance is permanently ajar and hard to locate amongst the foliage. Chunks of calcite and reclaimed stones from decommissioned buildings frame the portal.

Only the tiniest patch of light is able to fight its way though the muddy film covered windows, making for a dank and eerie room. Once my catlike eyes adjusted they focused in on the intricately placed stones forming arches, altars and columns. An empty niche flanked by two yellow slits of stained glass pressed into the stone wall anchored the room. A relatively new prayer bar and railing cordoned off the area as if the Lady of Lourdes' reliquary was on display.

Long exposure photos turned what looked like an abandoned dungeon into a peaceful hidden sanctuary peppered with tea lights to allow for prayer and vigil. A lighter, pen, paper and a vessel in which to deposit your prayers and requests all rest on a stone table built into the wall. I lit one of the candles and was surprised at the amount of light that it cast through the darkness.

I am sorry to report that there wasn't a sociopath escapee from the asylum seeking shelter in the grotto. It was nothing more than a structure at first glance was engulfed by the stigma of the word asylum combined with a sense of neglect. I made a completely off base judgement of what turned out to be a location that was just as amazing as my previous stop at the Grotto of the Redemption in West Bend, IA.

Fear not - tomorrow I will start at the beginning of my two days spent with a seven foot tall ginger named uncle Rooster.