Light continually evolves, more so at the end (or beginning) of a day.   There’s this little grove of trees a few minutes from home that I’ve photographed for about a decade.   Most of the time I just pass them by, but at times the quality of the sun’s rays gives pause, as it did last evening.   Thanks to years of heat and drought there are less trees in this grove, but a few hold onto life. These photographs were taken from 7:25-7:40pm.   Right after taking the last photos the sun dipped below the horizon.   The light became dull, pedestrian.   But for a few minutes it was playing my song.

Even without the rookery, Taylor has its share of birds.   On daily walks I’ll take a few seconds to stop and take a photo.   Most are foraging for food.  A Great Blue Heron was having a great day.  

A few years ago, when working on a story about wheat harvest, I was riding in a combine when it seemed like a good idea to step out into the field for another view.   The farmer questioned that idea, but I did go out into the field.   The dust created was overwhelming to my allergy-laden senses.   Good photos were taken, but at a cost.   These days I photograph wheat in a safer environment.   These photos are from recent ventures on the prairie.   Wheat is a most elegant crop, a food source that’s also beautiful to behold.

Stops at Taylor’s rookery in Murphy Park occur pretty regularly when the migratory egrets come  to town.   I thoroughly enjoy seeing their visually poetic moves over our town.  The darker birds are mostly cormorants, year-round residents who find ways to coexist with these seasonal visitors.   Our home is only a mile from the rookery, but numerous photographers and birders make this a destination each year.   And they spend money here.    If the heat and drought doesn’t beat them down again, I’ll be making more visits there.

Saint Martins Catholic Church, near Warrenton, Texas, in Fayette County, is considered to be the world’s smallest active worship Catholic Church in the world.  Nestled in a field along F.M. 237, it is indeed quite small.   I’ve been there a couple times before.    On a recent weekend outing, another visit for photos seemed appropriate.   You have to look for this site.   There are no advance signs directing you there.   Mass is still held here, but not every week.   The space is so small I can’t offer you a full view of the sanctuary with a 24mm lens.   Maybe I need to carry my 14mm lens, too.   Seating is four wooden benches on each side of an aisle.   Is it the world’s smallest?   I just know it’s nice to see it again.

This afternoon I spent some fun time at the annual Easter egg hunt conducted by Georgetown Church of the Nazarene.   The grounds of the church are often adorned with wildflowers.   The opening photo is of four siblings enjoying the scenery after their egg hunts.   The other photos supplement this post, but I really like the 1970 Volkswagen bus used as a place for the Easter bunny to visit with children.   Those ears.  I’ll return to the the landscape scenics, but whenever I get the chance to offer some people photography, I’ll do just that.

These events need little explanation.   It’s a simple matter of following the action.  And the expressions of happy children.   As my favorite photo director said decades ago, “This isn’t rocket science.”    From this morning’s Taylor Easter egg hunt.

We live in East Williamson County, but a portion of the Blackland Prairie adorns Northeast Travis County, home to Austin.  Offered tonight are wildflower  photos specific to Travis County.  From our home in Taylor, it’s exactly ten miles to Travis County.  The tractor includes a little of New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church.  The red barn photos include two versions.   Just more information.  And some Evening Primrose to conclude this post.

My first sighting of New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church was the summer of 2009.   I was driving from Taylor to Austin via F.M. 973.   There was a tall  spire in the far distance, visible for miles.   After 29 years in cramped and crowded metro-Atlanta, this was a wonderful sight.   Since then I’ve returned to take photos of the church a number of times.   These are from Wednesday evening, clouds gathering around the church, acting as a natural frame.  The spire is made of copper and is 104-feet tall.   The current church opened in 1921, but the congregation began in 1876.    It’s a popular destination for many photographers.    One can understand why.

This was taken a while after the rainbow photos last evening.  Daylight was waning, but the sky held onto some intensity.   With a country road moist with raindrops, it merited a brief stop.