Blog Archives
Ethanol, third
“It seems like there ought to be birds.”
“Oh, THERE they are.”
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 3.19.2017
Ethanol, second
It looks like a sand dune, doesn’t it? I guess it would correctly be called a millet dune, but that sounds sort of funny.
If you wanted, you could also call it “more or less 15% of the fuel in my tank, eventually.”
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 3.19.2017
Ethanol, first
This is how it is: after 7.5 years of driving past the ethanol plant and never stopping, I went twice in three days.
I’ve been watching these dunes beside the plant for a few weeks now, and have been intrigued by the color variations in them so the other Sunday, the Patient Spouse* and I took a little drive. (Like Old People, really, on a Sunday afternoon drive to see stuff. Only we went the speed limit.)
Anyway, to get to the point, those dunes are made from millet, a grain that’s used ethanol production. (Here’s something boring to read.) (Here’s something entertaining to read.)
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 3.19.2017
*The other day, I referred to the Patient Spouse as my traveling companion (Yes! Not even capitalized!). He said it made him sound like a dog.
Fog and Ethanol
I go by this ethanol plant on my way to work, and it’s almost the highlight of the trip.* Over the years, I’ve learned that there are a few days in October and again in April when the morning sun hits the metal structure in a way that turns it into a huge cross. And that on the coldest days of the year, the low sun can make the clouds of steam glow a magnificent bright yellow. And that sometimes there’ll be a train on the long curving track moving continuously, but so slow it’s nearly imperceptible, as the grain is off-loaded.
But until the other day, when it was shrouded in fog, I’d never even turned off the main road to go look more closely at the place.
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 3.16.2017
*I know. That’s kind of pathetic.
Deepening shadows
This building is under renovation – one of these days, it’ll be office space for Hockley County.
I happen to know the architect* for the project, and was able to get a tour one afternoon. Of course, the tour wasn’t planned in advance or anything like that**, so the only camera I had with me was the one on my phone. Which is better than no camera at all, of course. And the phone did a great job of capturing the way the shadows deepened in waves across that far wall.
Levelland, Texas
photographed 11.11.2014
* Because I’m married to him.
** Even though I am licensed planner! (Don’t tell the American Institute of Certified Planners – I’d hate for them to revoke my license!)
One Day | One Image 