the roof-giants
One of my favorite things I see during wanders through small towns are the civic-pride murals. I can’t recall ever seeing one that looked new – mostly they look like they were left over from the town’s centennial that’s already a quarter-century in the past. The paint is likely to be faded and/or chipped. Sometime’s the perspective is wonky. Or the scale is weird. Sometimes what was an accepted depiction of people a few decades ago seems terribly inappropriate now. There’s always something to see, though.
This time there was the the rare spotting of a whole family of giants standing on top of the farmer’s co-op gin. How frightening that must be for the workers and the horses way down below, like little ants compared the the local giants.
Slaton, Texas
photographed 5.29.2026
for it is no ordinary creature
We stopped off in Levelland the other Sunday to watch a barrel racing event. I don’t know what technical things to watch for (other than knocking down the barrels is not what the riders are supposed to do) but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating the athleticism of the horses and the riders.
But what I do know – because I attended the grand opening of this particular venue – is that a dirt consultant will devise bespoke dirt recipes for your livestock-based event. If I’d know that sooner, perhaps by career would have followed at different trajectory. Who know? (I mean, I sort of know that I would never have become a dirt consultant under any circumstances, but still, it might technically have been an option.)
Levelland, Texas
photographed 5.31.2026
rural electrification
A typical scene on the high plains – a farm buildings, some farm equipment, a horizon, and some wind turbines.
(FYI: Those clouds later built up into one hell of a thunderstorm.)
Roosevelt County, New Mexico
photographed 5.31.2026
field of vision
Through careful framing and a wide lens, I was able to fit the entire town into a single frame!
Inez, New Mexico
photographed 5.31.2026
room’s got the blues
For the past 17 years, I’ve driven by this farmhouse several times a week. I’ve stopped to look at it twice, a sort of embarrassingly low number.
The first time I stopped, there was a bird nest in the mailbox, a couple of barn owls, and a snake. And a bunch of junk piled up inside.
The second time, I didn’t see any wildlife but the bird nest was just as I remembered it. The junk was still there, only with more rodent/bird droppings and increased disintegration. But what I somehow don’t even remember from the first visit was this very-blue room. It must have felt so design-y and original when it was new, which makes it feel even sadder now.
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 5.31.2026
One Day | One Image 