Monthly Archives: November 2013
Three views of the same storm
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 7.4.2009, 2:28 p.m.
Ropesville, Texas
photographed 7.4.2009, 2:36 p.m.
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 7.4.2009, 2:54 p.m.
I love thunderstorms, and here’s why.
The land’s so flat you can see them building up out to the west.
The drama in the ever-shifting clouds.
The lightning – the kind that lights up the clouds from within, and the kind that makes those long jagged slashes to the ground.
The way the air smells when the storm’s near.
The sound of thunder.
The damp-earth smell of the first few raindrops.
The urgency of the rain, when it’s falling so hard that it’s noisy.
Oh, and you can take pictures of them.
White on white, 13
No matter how quaint Indian Lodge, somewhere, there’s got to be the mechanical stuff that keeps the place running. While it may not be as lovely as the adobe walls from yesterday, I think there’s still a certain charm here.
Davis Mountains State Park, Texas
photographed 11.11.2010
Indian Lodge
This place: Indian Lodge.
It was built during the Depression, as part of a Civilian Conservation Corps project, and is made from thick adobe walls. It’s designed with plenty of ledges and overlooks and terraces, all set to command a view down the canyon to the east. I like it there very much.
The very first place I camped, when I was only 5 or 6, was at this state park, and I guess it imprinted itself on me: I feel right when I am there. I’ve camped there quite a few times, including a couple of solo camping trips. And I’ve stayed at the lodge often: for many years, I’d go there by myself for a few days every summer to read; I’d average a book a day. Later, when I started writing, I’d go there to write.
One year, when I was in the last part of a writing and photography project on roadside crosses, I took my laptop and a printer to Indian Lodge and would work all day, and late into the night – as I worked, I’d print the photo of each roadside cross that I was writing about, and tape it on the wall. After a while, there was quite a gallery. One day, just after I’d gotten back from having lunch (sitting outside in the sun!), a member of the housekeeping staff knocked on my door – she wanted to know what I was working on. She and I, and two more members of the staff, had a nice chat about roadside crosses. They all knew someone who’d died along one road or another, and all of them had a cross placed at the accident scene. I’d photographed some of the places they were talking about.
It was a pivotal moment in the project.
Davis Mountains State Park, Texas
photographed 11.11.2010
Fog, turbines, and sunlight
This was a stunning sight. For one thing, fog’s not very common around here, so any foggy day has a bit of mysterious feel to it. And to see fog rising over the edges of the Caprock was a treat. Add in a handful of wind turbines slicing away at the mist, and a bit of a sparkle from where the sun hit the electrical insulators and train-track ballast;*. I’ve never seen anything like it.
near Fluvanna, Texas
photographed 1.17.2009
*Click to enlarge to see the sparkly stuff better – it’s at the bottom of the frame.
2.5 dots
These barstools are well-used, as you can see by the way the paint’s worn on the seats and rungs.
Just so you know, the “wood” railing on the left side isn’t actual wood, but a composite made up of 95% recycled wood and plastic. That doesn’t really have one single thing to do with this picture, except that I didn’t want to leave the impression that the only things here were wood and water.
Madeira Beach, Florida
photographed 10.30.2013
One Day | One Image 