Blog Archives
faded glory
I really like the way the various shades of red have faded into the same pink shade; red’s sort of a fade-y color (as anyone who’s had a red car can tell you) and is certainly no match for the intense desert sun.
Clint, Texas
photographed 12.15.2025
joel died at the border wall
My friend Don and I went to see the border wall. It was emotional and difficult, more so than we’d expected.
So today, on Christmas, I would ask that you spend some time with this image, some time thinking Joel Gonzales and his family, some time thinking about how those of Christian faith are specifically called to feed the hungry, to give water to the thirsty, to provide shelter to the homeless, to give clothes to the unclothed. And then reflect on this powerful sentence from the book of Matthew: “Truly, I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.”
San Elizario, Texas
photographed 12.15.2025
PS: You might want to read this post.
sacked
I stepped into the public restroom because…well, for the obvious reason. And a bit of magical light (and one white paper bag) greeted me.
San Elizario, Texas
photographed 12.15.2025
church + grackles
Don Toothaker, my shooting partner and excellent friend, and I enjoyed the town of San Elizario – there are a lot of reasons why but if I try to write them down here, they start to sound trite or maybe a little bit like I’m trying to hard. Suffice it to say, then, that we were in sync with what we felt and what we saw and how we felt about what we saw. And we saw and we felt a lot. The day was beautiful.
Presidio Chapel of San Elizario
San Elizario, Texas
photographed 12.15.2025
110th turkey
Some members of my family are data driven: we have a weird need to know how far, how many times, how often, how much. Some of us keep spreadsheets to track ridiculous statistics. Others of us know that their rate of travel shooting a Route 66 photo project is 17.8 miles per hour.
We are the Keepers of the Statistics.
Anyway, that is how we know beyond a doubt that this pot has fried 110 turkeys since 2000: there’s data to tell us.
We know we’re dorks. We don’t care. And even it we did care, I don’t think it would be possible for us to abandon our weird ways. My dad, an engineer to the last molecule in is body, was a Collector of Data. He kept an old-style surveyor’s notebook in his car and would carefully note the car’s gas mileage at every fill up. He also kept scrupulous travel journals, the last page always containing a summary of miles traveled, total expenses, and the per-day averages of both. See? We can’t help it.
Plano, Texas
photographed 11.27.2025
One Day | One Image 