Blog Archives
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
tangled
The local amusement park shut down this year, after 50 years of operation. I decided to go look at it the other morning; the cold rain made it seem even more forlorn that it already was.
Some of the rides are being shipped to other parks, but I guess the stuff that remains is headed toward being a big pile of bent metal.
Sad update: the owner of Joyland, David Dean passed away yesterday. His wife said, “I truly believe that the sale of Joyland falling through broke his heart.”
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.13.2023
a long way from home
Ok. So Lubbock is not exactly what you’d think of as a watery place. We’re 500 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. There aren’t even any substantial lakes nearby.
Yet, somehow there’s a 37′ boat* (which was built in 1976)* on a trailer on the top of a hill over on the north side of town.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.13.2023
*(There’s an amazing amount of stuff you can find out about a boat if you’ve got a registration number…)
One Day | One Image 