the flat, flat horizon
I feel good when I can see all the way to the edge, to that long and flat horizon. Those of you who live where there are hills and trees surely think I am deranged, but I don’t have any apologies.
I’ve not always been able to recognize or admit to my love of this flat place. It stated to change one summer night when we were staying in a cabin in the Colorado Rockies. A storm came up, with lots of thunder and lightning; usually storms like that are exciting, but this night I was edgy and restless and paced around the cabin until the last echos of thunder had faded. Later – several years later, because sometimes I am really slow about stuff – I began to understand the storm made me nervous because I wasn’t able to see where it was in relation to where I was. The so-called scenery was blocking my view! As you can imagine by looking at the photo, we can see a storm from miles and miles away: there’s comfort in that.
(Of course, with land this flat, there’s a whole genre of “it’s so flat that…” jokes, most of which are just as funny as you’d think. The only one I really like is “it’s so flat that if you stare long enough at the horizon, you can see the back of your head.”)
Hale County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
Under observation
Remember yesterday, when I said I looked through a broken window and found no surprises?
I thought the same thing was going on here, in the very next window to the east. I saw those scales and the three slants of light, and got the shot. Later, when I got home and downloaded the SD card, I saw what I had somehow missed in the moment – that owl (and those talons!). And there was my surprise…
Hale County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
Off the hook
I found a broken window and looked inside, yet again feeding my interest in seeing what kinds of things get left behind when a place becomes abandoned. No big surprises here, really, but I did quite enjoy the off-the-hook telephone.
A barn swallow flew around in her frenetic way, kindly illustrating how that very splattery pattern of bird shit got all over walls.
Hale County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
1950 (or 1925)
I didn’t know it when I set out, but finding this church is the whole reason for taking the back roads last Saturday.
Up here on the High Plains, almost all the roads are set up on a straight north-south/east-west grid (except for curves to avoid playa lakes), and the buildings are built parallel to the roads. And then there was this church set at an angle to the road. It was a bright surprise.
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
