Seriously, when I’m done with the project, somebody remind me to take all my courthouse photos and arrange them into broad categories. I don’t think there’s a regional style or anything, but I also look at different areas at different times so there are connections I might not be making. I say all this because this courthouse is just like the last one but gray not red!
Speaking of gray… Double Ugh. That and there’s something subtly disturbing to me about this town. Maybe it’s the touristy vibe, but this place felt like it was founded by a country club and the courthouse is one of the last symbols of what was here before (which included Davy Crockett’s widow, by the way). Or maybe the new brushed away the old a little too quickly or easily. I don’t know and I can’t really say because, let’s be honest, I don’t even think I spent my entire budgeted thirty minutes here. All I knew was the sooner I got a cache, the sooner I could leave. I didn’t photograph the cache because it’s in another cacher’s front yard. I’m a little frosty in people’s yards because all it takes is one good Samaritan stranger trying to stop a robbery and I’m lying in a pool of blood, gasping my last, labored breaths. It turned out to be an ammo can in the hollow of a big tree. Logged, swagged, trackable business, and then I was thankfully off again, falling ever closer towards home, but taking a moment to stop in…
Geocaching While Black 
You might look at the architects – I know that the one that designed the one in our county did a couple of others and when I see them, I can see the similarity in style.
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