Blog Archives

Paisley

If you can make your mind think these things are a lot smaller than they are, maybe you can also make it believe that it’s just a stack of paisleys. Because that’s a thing, right?

Levelland, Texas
photographed 8.4.2018

Saw/blade

I am not sure why blades on wind turbines would need to be replaced. I am not sure why, when they are replaced*, they’re stacked up on the outskirts of Levelland. I am not sure how long they’ll be here, or where they’ll go next.

But I am sure of this: they are huge, even when they’ve been sawed into pieces.

Levelland, Texas
photographed 8.4.2018

*Or maybe the towers are being removed?

Roman brick is my favorite

Ever since I first realized that Roman brick was a thing, I’ve liked it. For clarification, I am not referring to Roman brick that’s in, you know, Rome. I mean the long, skinny brick that’s on the front of this building, and that can be seen in a lot of mid-century buildings.

Ralls, Texas
photographed 8.3.2018

Circles + Squares

I went to Ralls, and I saw this. I’d seen it before, too.

Ralls, Texas
photographed 8.3.2018

Ralls, Texas
photographed 4.22.2010

They all fall down

Yes, eventually they will all be gone: these old farmhouses are doomed. Sometimes you can tell where a house used to be – the elms or cedars may be still alive or not yet so dead that they’ve fallen over.

Other times, though, the house will disappear without a trace. That happened to two houses on my drive to work (if I take the route that goes on a farm road). When I started this job two years ago, there were a pair of houses at a crossroads; one house was already vacant, and I watched the broken window glass shredding the curtains.

The other one had inhabitants. Sometimes in the winter I could see a blue glow inside, like the people who lived there were watching television. One day, a car from a home health agency passed me on the road; it was going very fast. Then I saw it parked at the house, on the hard-packed dirt yard at an angle like they’d parked in a hurry. It was only a few months after that when the house started to take on the look of a vacant place – an unlatched screen door banging in the wind, broken stuff piling up in front, no more home health cars parked there. And no television-glow from inside.

One of the houses got pushed over by a yellow bulldozer, and the pieces hauled away. In a matter of two days, it was like it had never even been there at all. The other one, the home-health house, was eventually vacant and then got pushed down and burned. The smoldering pieces were shoved into a hole which smoked for a few days. Then it all got covered over with dirt.

Now that I’ve written all this down, it’s starting to seem like maybe I have an obsession with these old places. And maybe I do. I could certainly obsess over worse things.

But anyway, one of these days, my travels will take me on this particular road, and later, when I get up to the main highway, maybe I’ll remember that I didn’t see this old place a few miles back, leaning into the wind.

Crosby County, Texas
photographed 8.3.2018

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