A few years ago, as spring and summer growth lessened, I began to notice an old shack resting in the middle of a field, not far from our home in Taylor.   During warmer months, the structure was covered in brush and vines, hardly visible to most folks.   Around seven years ago, however,   when granted permission to photograph a nearby barn, I took a closer look.   The person who owned the barn explained that it was what remained of a hand shack, also called a picker’s shack.   Many years ago, before expensive combines and tractors were common, farmers hired seasonal laborers to hand-pick fields of cotton.   Since most didn’t have a place to rest their heads at day’s end, farmers often built these structures to accommodate their workers.  If you look around our area, you’ll find a few remaining.   Occasionally, I’ll photograph one of the others, but it’s this one that keeps drawing me in.   When these were taken on a recent evening,   warm light fell into its interior, highlighting something there.    On closer inspection, I saw it was a high chair, resting around bottles  and pieces of tin, probably from the roof that’s falling in.   That chair was proof that people, families, lived there for brief periods before returning to their homes.   For now, this shack remains.   The land where it sits is probably quite valuable.  Time, and economics, will determine its future.  The Blackland Prairie is evolving.   As long  as this shack is around, and I’m around,  I’ll  document its old bones. 

This continues my weekly offering of photographs taken during daily walks.   Sometimes these walks are in Georgetown, but these are all Taylor scenes.    Although they say we don’t have much autumn color, I’m seeing a bit here and there.   These were taken with my Olympus OM-D E-M10 mirrorless camera, great for strolls!

The fence posts along this road are nice, but receive a little boost when the prairie grass is growing nearby.    Just a quiet space on the Blackland Prairie.

Seen this evening near sunset at San Gabriel Park in Georgetown.  We do have snippets of autumn’s splendor in Central Texas.   And a mom and daughter embracing the light on the river. 

Seen around 7:30 this morning, morning light streaming through a window in my office, falling on a stack of prints (and old calendar).   The prints are likely decades old.   I need to be organized, but it’s not a priority for now.

It’s along the lines of something posted earlier this year, but it’s fascinating to see a small bird watching over and defending her space, even when a persistent hawk comes along.  Seen this week in the Wuthrich Hill area.    The natural world is amazing.  

The first time I saw this a few years ago it was from quite a distance, but it really stood out.   The scene is in Circleville, along Texas 95.   The light on the star changes color continually.  It’s just  one of the ways folks in farm and ranch country celebrate the season.   There’s a bit of residual noise in the photo, but I’ve yet to embrace the tools of artificial intelligence.   It is what it is.  Peaceful.

In recent weeks I’ve made the short drive visit Jim Huntington’s majestic Huntington Sculpture Garden in Coupland.  Not long after returning to Texas in 2009, one of my wanderings led me to Coupland, where I first saw Jim’s work.   Mentioned before, but I was just gobsmacked!   Since then, I’ve written about Jim’s work.   We’ve become friends.   Jim will be 84 in January.   He’s produced many of his massive stone and metal sculptures through the years.   The passage of time has curtailed his sculpture work, but he’s returned to drawing to keep the creative juices flowing.   This weekend a post by Coupland artist and craftsman Wells Mason prompted this offering.   Wells and Tristan Ahlquist are working on a documentary about Jim, to be ready next year.   These photographs begins with tonight’s visit, the rain coming down just a bit, a cool blue  feel.   The first five are from this evening.   The others were taken two weeks ago, late-day light warm and inviting.   Jim is included in a couple.   It’s nice to hear Jim’s work is being recognized with a documentary.   He’s an amazing person.  

Back in September, when working on photographs at the  Waterloo Cotton Gin, it was nice spend a few minutes snapping photos of Manuel, 3-years-old.   Manuel’s father works at the gin during harvest time.   His mama usually comes along with Manuel.   I was initially taken in by the  little guy’s expressive eyes and ready smile.   After the photos, it occurred that Manuel was communicating to the camera  with his hands.   His mama, you see, is deaf.   He and his mom talk via sign language.   What Manuel was saying is a mystery since I don’t know sign language, but he’s an enchanting little boy.    People often grow up to become angry, not kind.   I’m wagering Manuel will continue to promote joy.   

Perhaps you’ve figured this out, but windmills are among my favorite subjects.   I hadn’t planned one tonight, but this one looked mighty fine next to a vibrant Texas sky.   No apologies this time, friends.   I do what I do.