Sometimes I’m just not feeling it when taking those daily drives around the prairie.   Monday night started out that way, an evening of light rain, and  clouds that didn’t add much to the landscape.    As I drove into Granger a little after 7, however, I was gobsmacked by the road in from of me.  West Davilla Street, the community’s main road through town, was  glowing like spun gold, and a little red thrown in for good measure,  too.   So far, the town of a little over 1400 a little over 40 miles northeast of Austin,  has kept its wonderful brick street.   The rain falling gently on its surface was calming.   The street I grew up on, in Texarkana, Texas, was also paved with bricks, and remained that way until sometime in the 60s, when city leaders decided it was too much trouble and poured asphalt over it.    Anyway, I have a soft spot for brick streets, especially when they shimmer.   

As I wandered around last evening, the moon began to make an appearance.   Well, you guys know I’m crazy about the moon.   As the day’s light relaxed its harsh glare, the camera found its way to New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church, a church you can see from miles away.   It’s only a few miles north of Manor, but it’s pastoral.   The moon was in a Waxing Gibbous phase last night, well on its way to full moon status.   Knowing Monday’s forecast called for rain and clouds (it’s raining right now), Sunday night was my best chance to see the lunar presence.   In addition to ones with the moon, I’ve included a photo of the church taken from the side.   And there’s a tree behind the church that looked pretty.  It merited a frame or two.     

Spending a pleasant Saturday with his grandma, Jameson, who turns 4 on Tuesday, wasn’t so sure about a goose paying the pair a lot of attention at San Gabriel Park on Saturday afternoon.   Because of all the rain and flooding, the park was a pretty quiet place.  Except, of course, for that goose.   Jameson was in good hands.   After the rescue, the little guy, close to nap time, relished in some down time.   Just a little slice of life, friends.  

A little over nine years ago, when we moved back to Texas, the rodeo arena in Georgetown caught my eye.  It defined everything I think about growing up in Texas.  Even then, a friend, a member of the Williamson County Sheriff’s Posse Rodeo, told me it wouldn’t be around many more years.  The property, you see, was leased.  The lease would expire in a few years.   The arena would be no more.   I couldn’t believe that.   Fast-forward to 2018.   What I, and many others feared, would come true.   The community would not extend the arena’s life.   Until this morning, while looking around San Gabriel Park for a photo, I happened to look toward the arena, where two men dismantled the grandstands.    Entering the arena, I asked if it were okay to take some photos.  The gentleman at first hesitated, then said okay.  The men are members of the Williamson County Sheriff’s Posse.  They were salvaging what they could before their contract ran out … on November 1st.   So it is.   Another slice of our culture is relegated to history.  The arena grounds are covered in weeds now.  Grackles make temporary homes on the stands … but not for long.    Included in this post is a “portrait” I made of the arena last spring, plus a black-and-white photo of two bull-riders waiting their turn at the 2017 rodeo.   That one’s on my business card.   

A couple tonight, grain elevators reflecting ambient light on a very wet Friday night in Central Texas.   On every walk this week, I carried an umbrella.  On the plus side, it was mighty cool.   The opening photo was taken in Noack, Texas.   The second, perhaps a half-hour later, was in the heart of Taylor, at Williamson County Grain.   Night light, friends, is soothing.  At least it is to me. 

Recently, I covered the annual Choo Choo Fest in Coupland, Texas, a fundraiser for the restoration of their vintage caboose.   The town’s venerable depot has  had its makeover, but residents in this community of around 300 people in southeast Williamson County are tackling the restoration of the caboose.  When finished, it will be used as a children’s museum.   Although I photographed the Choo Choo Fest during the day, it seemed like a good idea to go back for a photo of what the money’s helping.    It’s a neat little community with a good heart.

This evening I’m staying with subject matter  that continues to engage my senses.   The opening windmill was the result of a pretty long afternoon drive into neighboring Milam County, Texas.    It was a cold and misty day, just the right setting for what I saw along this lightly-traveled farm-to-market road, a windmill surrounded by fog, resting in a base of Blackland Prairie soil, with a dirt road leading into what seemed like infinity.  Back in Williamson County later tonight, two more windmills caught my eye.  These last two are neighbors, maybe a half-mile apart.  The center one’s been a photo subject several times.   The last one, new to me, was taken into that blue period of light.  And in the far distance, a pinprick of white light, farmhouse perhaps.   Just windmills, friends. 

I was going to skip posting anything tonight, but decided to toss something out there.  My afternoon and evening were spent photographing some flooding in the Georgetown area.  While the photos are good, they speak to those living in Williamson County, Texas.   When I post, the images need to have an appeal beyond the local audience.   So tonight, two quick road images, both from last evening near Granger, Texas.   The night had turned cold and wet, the wanderings not so much, but I happened on another sweet dirt road, thankfully not very muddy (yet).  The second photo is along the main corridor in downtown Granger.  Daunting at first glance, it was, thankfully, pretty shallow.    That’s all for tonight, friends.  Just some roads.

At one time, Jonah, Texas, a community between Taylor and Georgetown, boasted its own school, the Jonah Community School, opening in 1922.  In the 70s, however, the Jonah students merged with the larger school district in Georgetown.   The original school, however, remains, now repurposed as the Jonah Community Center.   If you happen to be traveling along Texas 29, going west, look for it on the right.  These photos were taken the other evening, when I decided to utilize a handy tripod, allowing better quality (I hope) images.   I like the red light that shines on an given evening, a beacon of sorts.   It’s a fine old structure, small, but sturdy.   My elementary school in Texarkana, Texas, Grim Elementary, was built in 1913.   In 1958, I began my education there, as a first-grader. In my office, right behind me as I write, is a school desk purchased for a quarter, original to the building.   It was a grand old structure, with two floors, and a really nice auditorium.   The radiator heat sometimes got a little noisy, but it warmed our bodies.   As a young adult, my career led us to Georgia, where I spent 29 years. On one of my rare visits to my hometown, I was heartsick.  Grim was gone, the victim of a road-widening.   So you see, I appreciate staying power.   Jonah School’s still with us, allowing an occasional photo.

If you follow my posts long enough, there’s a good chance you’ll find my lenses aimed at our Taylor parks.  Murphy Park, shown here, is a place I go to clear out the cobwebs and unwind.  It’s not just about the rookery, but that, of course, is quite amazing.  These photos were all taken during a single session a few days ago.   Sometimes I sit on things quite a while because at some point, you folks might grow weary of these therapy interludes.  However,  I’ll say to anyone who asks,  if I were the only soul left on the planet, I’d still do what I do.    Have a good night.