When we moved to Taylor in the summer of 2009, these twin windmills were a bit more visible, but the proliferation of too many limbs has taken its toll.  Nevertheless, I managed to record an image through the morass last evening.   I do like these windmills, which brings to mind that famous song, “The Windmills of Your Mind,” by French  composer Michel Legrand and lyrics by Americans Alan and Marilyn Bergman, created for the  1968 movie, “The Thomas Crown Affair,”  sung by Noel Harrison.    But these are just windmills, friends.  Let your minds go where they may.

When I arrived at  Georgetown’s  Williamson County Sheriff’s Posse Rodeo Arena Saturday morning for the Brushy Creek Saddle Club FunDay (that’s how it’s written), the fog had just lifted, leaving a morning that began in the mid-upper 50s.   Shortly after my arrival, however, a cold front barreled in.  Literally within a few short minutes, we found ourselves in low-40s territory, feeling colder with those Texas winds.   Horse folks, however, are not deterred.   As the name implies, these are “fun days,” held the second Saturday of every month, open to all who wish to come.  These sessions do seem dominated by young folks, and more women than men, but I did manage to find some fellows participating, too, one a spry 68-year-old from Copperas Cove who goes by “Sarge.”    One of my favorite images, the opening photo, bends my rule about folks peering into the camera.   This little 5-year-old, with her big old horse called Monty, was adorable.   The second photo shows her sitting high in the saddle, with dad there to watch after her.   The youngest cowpoke was her little brother, just 1, but doing just fine on a miniature horse called Wilma.   The rest are a little of this and that.   The last two photos are Goose, a handsome blue-eyed fellow.  I liked Goose.  These photos were taken for my friends at the Williamson County Sun.

On the way to an assignment this morning, the urge to stop was inescapable.   Another thick layer of fog was wrapping itself around our prairie landscape.    I still made it to that paying assignment with ample time to spare.   The last of these three photos, with the playground equipment, is in Jonah, at what’s now called the Jonah Community Center.   At one time it was Jonah School, opened in 1922.   Schools come and go, but it’s nice when their original bones remain with us.    

I’ll keep the words brief  for this post.   It’s no secret that I love to visit the rookery at Taylor’s Murphy Park.   When spring comes, there’ll be more to see, too.   This week, however, I slowed the shutter speeds way down to accentuate the grace and purity of their movements.   The predominant birds on display right now are cormorants, but one or two egrets are thrown in for good measure, too.   Hopefully, this departure in style is okay with my friends!

In June 1986, Atlanta Journal & Constitution writer Ron Martz and I traveled to Montana for a 110th anniversary of the Battle of Little Bighorn, a fight that took place on June 25, 1876 in what is now known as Custer National Battlefield Monument.    On this solemn occasion the remains of thirty-six  7th Cavalry soldiers led by General George Armstrong Custer, were reburied in one flag-draped coffin.   The pallbearers were member of the 7th Cavalry, stationed at Fort Hood, Texas.   On a hot day in June 1876, Custer led his troops into an unwinnable situation, leaving 225 soldiers dead, including, Custer.  Numbers vary widely, but the cavalry was up against a force of Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapahoe that numbered between 2,500 and 20,000.  On hand this day in 1986 were Native American descendants of those who fought in the famous battle.   It was again a warm summer day, but a peaceful one this time. 

After a drive around the county that produced nothing, I found myself just down the street from home, at Taylor’s Bull Branch Park.   Heaven knows what I was thinking, unloading the tripod and wandering into a chilly mist.    After a time, with the mist increasing its presence, turning into more of a steady rain, I moseyed on back home.   Still, to be by the  meandering stream, among the cypress trees,  is sweet.   

There’s something about American flags that I find intriguing.   Through the years I’ve pointed my cameras at them many times.   Don’t get me wrong, friends.   I love the Texas state flag quite a bit, too, but the American flag has a universality.   There’s this old barn in Northeast Williamson County that recently got my attention.   It’s an elegant pairing.    For this “exercise” the barn is presented in both color and black-and-white.   Perhaps the color rules the day, but as you know, I like to piddle around sometimes.   Presented here are six images, the first before the day gave up its light, progressing to a time well after dark.  The color versions are first, followed by the same photo in shades of gray.   I do like the night photos, but it’s instructive to look at how the progression of time affects a subject.  

While many friends were watching a football game tonight, I was wandering around on the prairie.   While I like football per se,  professional foot ball is something I removed from my psyche many years ago.   Most days, my preference is prairie rambling.   This is along a farm-to-market road a hair east of Walburg, Texas.   I included the second photo when I noticed a cowboy hat attached to the fellow in the driver’s seat.   It is Texas, you know.

After completing another assignment in Georgetown this morning, I drove through San Gabriel Park.   It was a drizzly morning, with temperatures maybe in the mid-40s.   In a park field there were a group of young folks being cajoled and pushed, but the youngsters seemed to relish  the workout.   Naturally, curiosity got the best of me so I stopped for a few minutes.   As it happens, Marine Corps recruiters were conducting combat fitness tests for future Marines, and those thinking about becoming Marines.   These fitness exercises are meant to give participants a feel for the physicality of combat, but without weapons.    Several of those gathered are “poolees,” a word I learned today.   A poolee is someone who has been accepted into the military, but has yet to enter the service.  In most cases, it’s because they’re still in high school.  Think of it as a pool of available people.    There were also “guests” at today’s workout, those considering the Marine Corps, but haven’t made up their minds.  The young lady in the red Marines sweatshirt was a guest.   Her older brother is a Marine, her father was also a Marine.  It’s a family tradition.   Anyway, the Georgetown Marine Corps recruiting station holds these occasional sessions, timed events that put participants through their paces:  i.e.. running, crawling, carrying another person on one’s back, toting two ammo canisters, 30 pounds each, while running.   And there are active duty Marines on hand to give them that extra push.   It was fun to watch, and very instructive.   It’s interesting that as the world changes, more women are being sent into combat roles.   The nicest part of the session?  Each and every one of these young adults called my old self “sir.”   Even if I don’t deserve that honor, I like their style.  And their manners.

This is a photo I took earlier this week at St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery in Taylor, Texas.   The monument to Jesus Christ was added in 1931.   If you’re driving along the road that borders the cemetery, this is the first thing you see.    This is a pretty old burial place.  Perhaps I’ll stop by for another visit.    It’s intriguing.