Blog Archives
It’s outdoor furniture season
A couple of years ago, a windstorm with gusts around 100 mph (no kidding!) damaged some furniture we had out at our place in the country. We* tried to fix the broken pieces, but finally abandoned that plan. As a result we were shopping for new furniture. I, of course, was more interested in photography than chairs…
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 4.9.2016
*When I say “we” I am taking a lot more credit than I earned.
An unsecured location
The front door of our country home.
Or, to be accurate, what’s left of the front door of a hut on some land we’ve got out in the country. The hut came with the place, and has been in the process of falling down for a decade. There’s a hole in the roof now, so I don’t image it will make it through many more winters.
You can see other shots of the hut here and here and here and here.
Yellowhouse Canyon
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 3.27.2016
Thanks to help from Andy Hooker, I was able to restore the function that will enable viewers to click on the image to see a larger version. Try it out!
Unquenched Thirst
My granddaughter is thinking of starting a cotton farm*, and this is her seed storage compartment. Hannah-as-a-farmer is amusing enough, but the cotton stuffed unto a soda carton struck me as very funny.
Yellowhouse Canyon
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 3.27.2016
*She also has plans to cure diabetes, become President, and work as a fashion designer. I will assume that her clothing designs will feature cotton.
Gravity still works, parts 1 and 2
My younger granddaughter, Bennett, spent some time making sure that gravity was still in effect. In each case, it was. Her great-grandmother, in the background of the top image, seems surprised the result of the experiment.
Bennett picked out this outfit herself. She has either a very strong, on-the-edge fashion sense, or she’s completely hopeless. At this point, I feel like it could go either way…
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 3.27.2016
The Morning Windows
This building’s been vacant for a while, which is a shame. The morning sun coming through the windows illuminates a sad state: the roof’s collapsed (or is collapsing). There’s probably no going back now.
Lubbock, Texas
photographed 3.26.2016
One Day | One Image 