Blog Archives
tank and ladder
I always think I ought to stop and photograph one of these tanks but I never do. Honestly, I think I want to photograph them out of a decades-long habit of thinking they are Very Important Subjects, which may or may not be true.
So, finally, I did stop and get a photo of one. But now I wonder why I didn’t even bother to get closer, or to look at that ladder, or look around the other side.
But it’s a start. Or an end. I haven’t decided yet.
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 6.14.2026
fresh water (in the rain)
If you want to get really worried about the future of water in places that are above the Ogalalla Aquifer, you could read Running Out: In Search of Water on the High Plains, by Lucas Bessire.
Or you could look at the shifts in annual rainfall and think about how long it takes to recharge our aquifer. And think about how farmers are already moving away from growing certain high-water-consuming crops. (Who REALLY needs corn, anyway?)
Or you could think about how rural counties are falling all over themselves to get data centers to come here. And then think about how the data centers claim their eventual water usage will be “about the same as two houses.”
And maybe, sometime in the future you can think fondly about the days where there WAS fresh water out.
Hockley County, Texas
photographed 6.14.2026
gro-gas
Several years ago my friend Ron showed his credentials as a location scout by telling me about a tiny town called Bledsoe, which has a lovely, abandoned school. I’ve photographed the school several times but this was the first time I’d ever stopped to get photos at the Gro-Gas, which currently offers neither of those things.
Bledsoe, Texas
photographed 5.31.2026
high plains gold
My traveling companion – who’s Not From Here – suggested a u-turn to get this photo. I did not argue since he was right.
Because I *am* From Here, there’s a good possibility that I wouldn’t have really noticed the photographic possibilities the way he did. Which just goes to show…something? That I am largely unobservant? Or that new eyes see new things? Probably the first of those two things, if I am being honest.
Floyd County, Texas
photographed 5.30.2026
admirals + tacos
It was a weird travel day. Our direct flight to Lubbock got rerouted just before we landed – there was a huge storm that got to Lubbock just ahead of us. We flew to the next closest storm-free town and sat on the plane for a couple of hours. During that time, the flight attendants did five (5!!!) separate head counts; I am not sure how the number could have possible changed from the number that was on the flight to begin with, but I guess you have to look useful or something. The first two times, the flight attendant was using some kind of electronic device to verify passengers; the last two times she was using an air-sick bag to record her counts. (Also, a little kid near me told me the bag was to breathe into in case you got scared.)
In the meantime, my husband was at the airport waiting for me. And it turns out not only was my seat mate’s husband also at the airport, but he was hanging out with MY husband.
Anyway, by the time I eventually got home, everything I saw was blurry like this photo.
Sky Harbor International Airport
Phoenix, Arizona
photographed 6.6.2026
One Day | One Image 