Last week, on Saint Patrick’s Day, Turner Classic Movies was airing “The Quiet Man,” with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara, a movie which came out in 1952, the year of my birth.   On Facebook, I happened to mention I was watching it, while remembering photographing Mr. Wayne on December 16, 1978, at the Independence Bowl football game in Shreveport.   Wayne was there to receive the bowl’s Omar N. Bradley Spirit of Independence award.   The game matched up East Carolina against Louisiana Tech, but on that cold, cloudy and otherwise dreary afternoon, my attention was squarely on the Duke.    Not many people impress me, but Wayne was one who did.   It has nothing to do with his political leanings, different from mine as can be, but rather his character, strength and God-given talent.   What an impressive man he was.   On the day of the game, Wayne, who’d been quite public about his lung and stomach cancer, looked happy, but weary, too.   Even though the game was on the field, most of the stadium’s eyes were on him.   So were mine.   If memory serves, I probably missed most of the first quarter, snapping away at the legend.  Close to the end of the quarter, as nicely as he could, Wayne asked “Son, don’t you have enough photos yet?”   Not wanting to add to his pain, I answered “Yessir,” and went back to recording the game.   Forgive the quality of the photos, taken with Kodak Ektachrome transparency film, not known to do well in poor light.   The Duke had plenty of personnel there to run interference.   Few people got close that day, but one little girl, wearing a red jacket, must’ve had connections.   She got to meet him, if only briefly.   She’s the last photo in this post, but in the big crowd shot before it, you see her again, watching intently.   This was among Wayne’s last public appearances.  In accepting the bowl’s award, Wayne said “You may find a man more worthy to honor, but you’ll never find one so grateful.”   He died the following June.   There aren’t many like him around today.

At certain times of the year, usually from January-March, the shadows seem more pronounced.   When photographing fellow humans, that can often be a negative, but not necessarily for landscape and nature work.    I’ve recently taken notice of barns’ proximity to trees, and the shadows they leave.   The first photo in this grouping  reads much better in color, but mostly I’m partial to black and white for this subject matter.  One of these barns seems awfully-bright in the late-day light, its reds almost overpowering.   Maybe (assuming you like it at all) black and white strips things down in a good way.  I’m ambivalent about it.  The last image?   Well, that’s just a nice tree, surrounded by a whole lot of Blackland Prairie.

During my daily walks the past few days, I’ve noticed this shrine to the Virgin Mary.  Even during daylight hours, the light is on.   Tonight, I drove by to see if it was still shining.  And it was.  A couple of years ago, I photographed a similar shrine in front of a farmer’s field, also in Taylor.   Is this specifically a Roman Catholic tradition?  I think it might be.  It’s quite serene.   I’m including a tighter photo to give you a better sense of things, but prefer the wide image.

On the first day of Spring I stopped by Booty’s Road Park in Georgetown, enjoying the scenery and visiting a fisherman seeking out some good spots for his passion.    The plant life was abundant as well.  From there I traveled east, to Berry Springs Park & Preserve, a place that never bores me.  There I watched as a young lady darted across a field in the late-afternoon light, a mom helping her 3-year-old take photos of bluebonnets and a few more bluebonnets, sharing their space with a single red poppy.  It’s felt spring-like for a while around here, but now it’s official.  Revel in it, friends.

After a paying assignment earlier in the day on Saturday, I needed wander a little, too.  By late-afternoon, I was a little west of Granger, where these photos were made.  The light was interesting.   The image with the windmill and trees had an interesting warmth, Mother Nature’s version of a sepia tone.   By the way, those are two different windmills.   We have quite a few of them around here.At some point, I’ll figure out exactly what those four-legged animals are.  I’m pretty sure they’re donkeys, but maybe they’re mules.   Either way, they were a curious group last night.

I just heard that rock legend Chuck Berry died today at his home in Missouri at age 90.   While the exact date fails me, this is a photo I took at one of his concerts in Atlanta in the early 1980s.   Back in the day, fans could sometimes make their way onstage.   That might not happen today.   Mr. Berry was, and is, a classic. 

The Williamson County Expo Center is a short drive from my home in Taylor, Texas.  The facility, here when we moved home to Texas in 2009, has been expanded and enhanced, now offering many more events.  One that I particularly enjoyed last evening was their Open Ride Night, a low-key, no-cost and non-competitive  event where folks could enjoy time with their horses in the arena, perhaps try their hand at barrel racing, but also outside, among the Spring wildflowers.   Also joining in the fun was Gus, an 11-week-old Australian Shepherd.  These dogs seem drawn to anything equestrian.  Those billowing blooms are what I call winecups, but you call them whatever suits your mood.   I’ve said it many times, but this part of Texas, the Blackland Prairie, is a pleasure to behold.

This photo was taken in August 1980 in Shreveport, Louisiana shortly before I left for Atlanta.    A concerned Doris Roberts walks with Shreveport firefighter Paul Brown after he successfully rescued and revived her cat, which was taken to a local veterinarian for treatment.   Firefighters continue to be heroes today.

With some time on my hand this week, I decided to look around for some wildflower images.   A warm and wet winter seems to be bringing them to Texas a little sooner this time around.  One of my favorite places to visit when in Georgetown is Our Lady of the Rosary Cemetery and Prayer Gardens.   Most years, wildflowers take root.   This year is no exception, but the large field on a hill above the cemetery is not quite there.   The drive into the cemetery, however, is filling with bluebonnets and Four-nerve daisies.  Don’t ask me where that name came from, but I like it.   The garden area here is maintained by Williamson County Master Gardeners and Naturalists so I know their labeling is spot on.   But let me call attention to my most interesting encounter …. a large agave plant.  Everything from the fourth photo to the end is the agave, photographed as the light faded to a blue warmth.  Yes, I do see blue as being warm!   I’ve passed by this plant numerous times, but haven’t considered it too much, until last evening.   The late-day light was filtering through nearby trees, creating a wonderful palette of color, highlights and shadows.   I was transfixed.   When viewing obviously-manipulated photos, I can’t help but wonder why photographers don’t just choose the right time of day for their photo sessions?  Assuming they have a choice, that is.   Mother Nature does some fine things with color if you take the time to see.

I’m just posting this photo tonight, taken about twenty minutes past sundown on a county road north of Taylor.   Like many things I photograph, this was an unplanned thing.  The fields on the left and right are ripe for planting.  Have  a good night.