I wasn't sure what caught my eye on Rocky Ford

I stopped, turned turned, and took a picture. There was something familiar, something that triggered memories.

Rocky Ford is a street in Edgewood Kirkwood (thanks to Anonymous for straitening me out. Edgewood's boundaries go from Moreland to Arizona and I-20 to La France). I presume it "forded" Sugar Creek to the south. Folks just live there. Drivers just look straight ahead.

You'll never see it on a tour unless you are touring with me.


The flare on the verge board caught my eye at 30 mph. When I looked closely, I found this massive architrave with details galore. The chipboard in the gable window didn't put me off at all.

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It's a 1930(?) hip-roofed bungalow with a leafy minimal landscape and a double-wide next door. This could be anywhere in the south.

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There's a very grand portico with a hint of Tudor-asian-classical-craftsman, painted out in white. The chimney is proud and handsome, the foundation is unfussy and sturdy. The porch pokes out and is recessed in. The steps are massive. The verticals of the chimney and columns, the diagonals of the roof and half-timbering look just right with the horizontals of siding, sill, and eave. The gable, the pointy hip roof, and chimney reach for the sky.

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You could build this today, don't you think?

Rocky Ford is not historic, not high style, not designed, not planned, not gentrified, not balanced, not harmonious, not zoned into conformity, not messed with too much.

But it has rewards for architecture tourists. I'm glad I stopped.