Blog Archives
Slow death is certain
There’s only one way this is going to end: in a pile on the ground surrounded by weeds and covered over by the big sky. It won’t happen quickly, probably, but it will happen.
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
Getting our hopes up
Our summer started out with cool weather and more-than-normal rainfall. But it soon got over that, and now it seems like maybe it’s never rained here. Ever. Not even a drop. And it’s hot, too – at or above 100 degrees for days at a time.
And that makes it seem like maybe this sign is being unnecessarily cruel.
(I am heading shortly to Chicago for a conference, where the high temperatures are forecast to be in the 70s. My work colleague and I had a discussion about packing; neither one of us can recall the right kind of clothes for that sort of weather.)
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
the future, in the rear view mirror
Death was right there, in my rear view mirror.
Or, at least, the Petersburg cemetery was in the mirror….
Petersburg, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
Southwestern Grain and Wind
Things don’t look so good for Southwestern Grain, Inc. (Unless you are an owl.) But there’s the future – a wind farm over there on the horizon.
Hale County, Texas
photographed 8.10.2019
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
One Day | One Image 