Monthly Archives: June 2023
like ghosts, they’re gone
The last time I’d been here, the door was still attached to the building.
But now! Now, it’s on the ground with the glass intact, which gave me a nice reflection of the building.
(Just one more reason to revisit the same location.)
New Home, Texas
photographed 5.14.2023
zion shoulders the storm
I guess a lot of photographers have That Place – the one they go to when they’re stuck, when it’s hard to get going, when they’re bored.
This place is That Place for me, a run down little church about a half-hour’s drive from my house. The first time I posted an image of this place was in March 2012.
And a quick visit back to that post was surprisingly emotional: 2012 was the year that my dear friend Laurie gave herself the challenge of posting a comment, in the form of a haiku, every day. And there was her haiku, in the comments of this old post. At some point I promoted her haiku and my photos to their own blog, and kept it going with my own verse from 2013 until now. Laurie passed away two years ago. I still miss her and am grateful for the impact she had on my life: I would not be a photographer without her guidance. I would not be a poet without her encouragement.
New Home, Texas
photographed 5.14.2023
you were warned
I don’t know. I don’t know that trains really need a sign about the handrail situation on a bridge. You know, since they don’t have hands.
That sign is facing a highway, but I didn’t have the sense that there were a lot of (or any) pedestrians walking the tracks. And anyway, who’s ever even SEEN handrails on a train bridge? Wouldn’t it be more sign-worthy to announce the rare times where there WERE railings?
Anyway, as I said: I don’t know.
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 5.14.2023
scattered showers
I took advantage of the rainy day to get out and make some photographs. And while I will almost always go out of my way to not photograph plastic caught in a fence, I found myself unable to resist this scene, and especially like how the camera caught the raindrops dancing around in the wind.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.13.2023
why i love the plains
From a sky- and weather-viewpoint, the day had been fairly unremarkable. And even the sunset didn’t look too promising.
But then about 8 minutes before sundown, the sun broke through the clouds, which had looked really flat and boring. But the low angle highlighted the mammatus clouds in a way that was unexpected, dramatic, and breathtaking.
And, if this very same thing had happened somewhere with hills and/or trees, no one could have seen it. And that’s why I love the plains.
Yellowhouse Canyon, Texas
photographed 5.13.2023
One Day | One Image 