These two photos were made a few nights ago along the San Gabriel River.   I thought of them tonight while driving around, listening to James Taylor sing “Moon River” and “Old Man River” from his album of standards.   I listened to Mr. Taylor as a college freshman in 1970.   In 2020, I still get lost in his work.   And I get lost in documenting the San Gabriel, an ethereal presence.   The views were taken minutes apart, the first image looking east.   Back in the car, the river comes into view again, this time looking west, moments after sunset.  The San Gabriel begins its journey northwest of Georgetown, meandering east until finally merging with the Brazos River.  The combined waters complete their journey at the Gulf of Mexico.

The forecast for this afternoon and evening was for more stormy weather.    We did get a good dousing this morning, thankfully ushering in cooler temperatures. The evening storm didn’t materialize, but a nice sunset north of Granger made up for it.

While en route to an important errand this morning, I was compelled to pull over for a couple minutes to snap this photo in Norman’s Crossing.  The quality of light after a storm leaves an impression, not only in the sky, but on the land below.

The moon,  a Corn Moon,  is officially full at 12:22a.m. Wednesday morning.  It also looked good a little before 8:30 tonight, too.   Enough said.

Some photos tonight from Coupland, Texas, the focus on St. Peter’s Church of Coupland.   From near sunset to moonrise, a Waxing Gibbous moon, 98.8% visibility, shines above this southeastern Williamson County community.   From orange daylight to blue nightlight. 

The opening photo was taken Saturday evening in Georgetown, a Waxing Gibbous moon above Georgetown’s First United Methodist Church, 90.7% visibility.   The others are from tonight, all east of Granger, Texas, the moon almost 96% visible.   Chasing the moon is a visual delight.

Last night, I posted some generic scenes from Waterloo Gin, a longtime fixture on the Blackland Prairie in Texas.   Tonight, we visit Waterloo again to spend time with Pedro, known around the gin as Pete to almost everyone.    Pete is one of the reasons I return here each cotton-harvest season.  When his next birthday comes around, he’ll be 90-years-old.  Each year, when I stop by, the first question I pose to the owners is straightforward.   “Is Pedro still here?”   David, one of the owners, smiles this time  as he gives an affirmative nod.    Nobody asks him to return each year.  He just does.  Sometimes he takes a few seconds to blow off the cotton dust particles before returning to task.   We  all need a purpose.    Though he moves slower each year I see him, Pedro (Pete) still makes an impact.   Last year, I made a print for him.   I hope he liked it.   Work equals purpose.   

As cotton harvest is done, the fruits of a  farmer’s labor concludes at cotton gins.   For the past few years, I’ve visited Waterloo Gin, east of Taylor, Texas, where I observe the process firsthand.  In 2020, COVID-19 has prompted the use of face masks.   This is nothing new to workers at gins.   The dust prevails, as do masks.  Cotton harvest is progressing.  Gins are there to bring the work to market.    If all goes well, I’ll post something else from this Blackland Prairie site on Saturday.

Sometimes I let files pile up on my desktop.   When that happens, they either get sent to an external drive, or they get deleted altogether.   Here are a few from the past few weeks around the prairie, including cattle grazing near Thrall, a sunset in Wuthrich Hill, and a sesame field east of Taylor.   I had no idea farmers grew sesame seeds here.   A closeup of a bloom is included for reference.

Thankfully, we still have some open spaces around the Blackland Prairie, country roads rolling into infinity, surrounded by recently-harvested fields, now empty.   This simple scene is a county road a little south of Bartlett, Texas.   I don’t get tired of seeing this.