Apologies to Elton John, but  “butterflies are free to fly,” lyrics from his 1975 song “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”  (Captain Fantastic) came to mind as I observed these beautiful winged creatures at Taylor’s  butterfly garden this week.   The garden captured my attention during a morning walk this week.  Naturally, I returned for a few photos.   The last photos, the silhouettes, are of a very focused butterfly intent on her task.   I watched her for 25 minutes, until the day’s light faded away.  And then there was the moonrise.

Finally, the pumpkins arrived this afternoon at Taylor’s First United Methodist Church.   The 2000-plus delights were supposed to be in place three weeks ago, but finding enough truck drivers to get them here from New Mexico was a problem.   They’re here now.   While shoppers can get their pumpkins by Halloween, the church will extend their annual sale into the first week of November.    Among those helping were National Honor Society members from Taylor High School.   My little Central Texas community comes together when needed.

Throughout a long career in photojournalism,  many of my bosses have thumbed their noses at publishing feature photos of kids, viewing them  as overdone fluff.   Indeed, they  can become trite and lifeless if done in a slipshod manner.    However, if done with with compassion and thought, images of children in their environments  can connect with readers in meaningful ways.   They can be far more than “cute.”    These photos are from a trip to a local park this week, a little girl and her daddy enjoying the day despite a herd of geese (and some ducks) intent on getting her to share her frozen treat.   If I were an editor,  with room  for one photo, it might be the opening one presented here, but as you might guess by now, I like to dig a little deeper  for life’s interchanges.  Little bits of life are escapes from a twisted world.  At least for a while.

Just a couple of simple images from in and around the community of Coupland, Texas.   The village focal point, of course, is St. Peter’s Church of Coupland.   The other photo is along a country road that will  remain unnamed here.

As the days grow shorter, opportunities for night images increase.  These are some photos taken around the viaduct in downtown Taylor.   A version of the opening photo has been taken before, but  this was a good time to try out new camera gear, including a better tripod.  I like this 1883 building at the corner of 2nd and Main.   It remains vacant.  Maybe someone can breathe new life into it.   The second photo  is Vencil Mares Taylor Cafe, a venerable barbecue establishment operated by World War II veteran Vencil Mares, who died late last year at 96.   It’s closed now.  Is that because of Vencil’s passing, or the pandemic?   The third image was just enjoying the patterns and light under the viaduct.  In the daytime, it’s not so interesting, but at night it’s kind of neat.

One of the churches I enjoy photographing is Immanuel Lutheran Church, just west of Taylor.  While it always looks grand, the golden light at sunset is truly calming.   This post includes the warm light gracing its front, but includes the source of that light, too.   The last photo of the church has nothing to do with sunset.  It’s just an image I like.

I was doing a walk-around last evening in downtown Taylor, looking for night scenes.   Finishing up, I saw a bicycle loaded with trash bags and other things, resting on a bin near the viaduct.   Then a face, a man in search of whatever the bin might hold.  We visited while I made a few photos.  In his early-60s, he mentioned he was a veteran, diagnosed with depression.   I wish I’d had thought to give him something.   If we pass each other again, I’ll remedy that.   Many who follow my work in recent years may have expectations for the images posted, many of them rural scenics, landscapes, pictorials, etc.    Over the years, however, since the early-70s in Austin, I’ve tried to document people living on the precipice, beginning with photos along East 6th Street.   That work  continued  a little in Shreveport and Atlanta.   Now we’re living in a Central Texas town of  approximately 20,000.   You might not expect to see homelessness in a place like this.   It’s here.  I’ll get back to what you come here for, but won’t ignore the things I see.

About twenty minutes east of my Taylor home is Thorndale, Texas, a community of approximately 1400 in Milam County, founded in 1878.  The 2010 census estimated the population at 1336.   It’s probably more now. These are some scenes from a few recent visits, beginning with John, who stopped to chat for a few minutes.   The post concludes with turkey vultures perched on a tower just west of downtown.  It was a strange sight.

A sunset scene  along United States Highway 79, from Thrall to Thorndale.   Sunsets are nice just about anywhere.  

These were taken on a recent early morning at the beginning of dawn here on the Blackand Prairie.   While it’s common in Texas to call them tanks, my farm family in northeast Texas just called them  ponds.   Either way is okay.   Minutes after passing the pond, the skies became foggy, creating another kind of light.   When I can make it happen, I love early mornings.