Author Archives: Melinda Green Harvey
There were three very old wreckers parked inside a fenced yard. I was photographing them through the fence when the wrecker company owner invited me in to look around. (I was pretty sure he was going to invite me to move along.) He said he’d purchased all three trucks as one lot in an auction, but that this one was the one he really wanted. He said he liked the patina.
So did I.
Here’s my confession: I didn’t even SEE the moon when I made the picture. I didn’t notice it until I was in Lightroom, looking for and erasing a few dust spots. And even then, I thought it was just a giant hunk of dust stuck on the sensor.
It’s a shame that I am not nearly as observant as I believe myself to be.
I drove through a town that was so small that I barely noticed it. (Sorry, tiny town.) On the north side of town I passed a church and seconds later, my brain decided that the sign out in front said “Double Baptist.” A minute or two after that, my brain also decided that I couldn’t go another day without a photo of the Double Baptist Church.
It is actually the Doole Baptist Church, and my brain obviously cannot be trusted.
I have an endless fascination for the things that get left behind when a place is abandoned. It started in Floydada, Texas, when I spotted a single spatula left in an out-of-business hamburger stand, and I haven’t gotten over it yet. I understand that maybe the last people who lived here didn’t really mean to abandon the place, but a sofa? Or an electric skillet, a cooler, some jars, and all the other stuff that I couldn’t see well enough to identify?