Most of tonight’s photos were taken in East Williamson County, Texas, but one or two  might be from our neighbor to the east, Milam County.   In both counties, the land and sky look grand.   What we have here are cleared corn fields, those yet to be harvested, and what I think might be another hand shack, sitting majestically in the middle of a harvested field.   When the corn was high, you didn’t see it.  A “hand shack” was meant as a temporary residence for seasonal farm workers.  Most I’ve seen, like this one, are squarely in the center of a field, making it the transition from rest to work an easy one.  This entry fades with a day’s light on the last couple, one with that nice shade of blue I treasure. 

While pursuing another thing this evening in Milam County, Texas, I couldn’t help but stop to watch another sunset along a quiet farm-to-market road near Apache Pass.  A pleasant surprise awaited as four curious heads popped up, taking a pause from their pond as it reflected the day’s final rays.   It was a good night.  I can’t add another thing.

The quality of light before dawn is always inspiring, even more so when I can make myself rise early enough to enjoy it.   This morning I got up a little after 5:30, quickly dressed and drove to the rookery at Taylor’s Murphy Park.  The egrets and ducks calling this home in the spring and summer months will envelop their little island completely in the evening, settling in for a good rest,  but when daylight comes these birds take flight to gather sustenance for their families.  During the harsh light of day you’ll see a few here and there, but it’s sparse.   With that in mind, I arrived 45 minutes before first light , documenting the activity until just before sunrise. These are mostly presented chronologically, beginning with the earliest image, about 30 minutes from sunrise.   The first two photos were made with the use of an always-handy tripod using a 20-second exposure.  Those birds were so still, I didn’t have to worry about movement!   The final photo, with a Waning Gibbous moon adding a speck of light above, was less than five minutes before dawn.   Driving away a bit before 7, my rearview mirror filled with the sun’s glow.   We’ll visit the sun another day, friends.   This one’s about the gift of morning’s subtle tones.  

Each year since returning to Texas, I like to follow a farm family during harvest.   This summer I’ve had the honor of working with Norman’s Crossing farmer Troy Boehm and his family, including his wife, Jeni, and their two teens, Gage, 16, and Garet, 13, while they work literally day and night through 1900 acres of Blackland Prairie corn.  As this is written, they’re out there somewhere right now.  Troy, 45, took the reins from his father, Emzy Boehm.  And Emzy’s father, Raymond Boehm, preceded by Max Boehm, who began many years ago in neighboring Milam County.  A complete column I’ve written  is being published in Wednesday’s Williamson County Sun so I’ll keep this brief.   The opening image was taken just before 9pm last Friday, when a full moon, appropriately called a Blood Moon, helped light the way.  Those teens, by the way, have been navigating those tractors since they were 7-years-old.   Also included are two of Troy’s helpers, Dwaine Cervenka, driving the combine, and Dwaine’s father, Frank, piloting one of the trucks loaded with grain.  Since the family never seemed to be in the same place, I did a formal portrait of them in front of their wonderful grain elevators.  Also included is one of Troy and Jeni watching a prairie sunset.   This Blackland Prairie land is a place my wife and I specifically chose when I “retired” from the Atlanta Journal & Constitution.   I am hopeful, even with progress and growth, this ocean of land remains for many future generations. 

“Playing to the base” is a phrase I’ve heard repeated often in stories, usually related to political matters.   Tonight’s photo, perhaps, plays to my own base.    As stated many times, it’s seldom you’ll see me pass up a good sunrise or sunset.   I never grow tired of them.  This photo was taken this evening on a nice little road a little west of Granger, Texas.    Understand that I still embrace good community storytelling, but these pictorial interludes?  Well, they’re okay, too.

When allergy/sinus issues rear their nasty heads, I try to stay close to home.   These are recent photos taken in my town, Taylor, Texas, in our quaint downtown corridor.    City limits signs place our population at a little over 15,000, but recent census figures have us topping out around 17K.   Compared to metro-Atlanta (Georgia), however, it’s still a small town.  A recent controversy here is related to an alley between 2nd and 3rd Streets.   Beginning in early-June, area artists began adding their own touches the art wall.  Six weeks into the project, however, the city slowed things down.  Any downtown art is expected to get a permit, at no charge,  from local government.   I understand this, but do hope city fathers will allow this artistic expression to continue.   

These are some photos taken this evening on the farm of friends in Norman’s Crossing, Texas.   Grain elevators once again got my attention.   It was a pleasant night, the day’s heat diminishing, at least a little.  And then there was the moon, a full moon, sometimes called a Blood Moon at this stage.   The last photo, taken about 9:30, is courtesy of our lunar friend.  

A friend, riding on a tractor with a nephew during corn harvest, texted me a new find, a cemetery sitting on a hill above a pasture in East Williamson County.   Growing up in this area, she remembered seeing it before, but not for quite a while.   The other evening, I drove out there to take a look.    Looking carefully, taking it slow on this dusty dirt road, I was keeping an eye out, expecting to see something tiny.   You know, one of those family plots in the middle of a pasture.   But this was no small plot.  Looking to my left, and up, there it was, a Waxing Gibbous moon beginning to shine.  The road wound around, coming to its end at what I now know to be the Shiloh-McCutcheon Cemetery.   In the 1840s, according to the Texas State historical marker, this was the Shiloh community, not far from Brushy Creek, near Wilbarger Crossing, later called Shiloh Crossing and Rogan Crossing, the village had a school, church and two stores.   The first burial here was in 1853, but it was not officially deeded as a burial site until 1890.  Interred here are veterans of the Texas Revolution, the Civil War, and both World Wars.  There are a few recent burials, but only ashes of descendants are permitted now.   I remained there until the day’s light began to fade.  With no street lights on that old road,  getting home was a good idea.   Cemeteries, large or small, continue to fascinate.    In Texas, we have an abundance of history, much of it found in these tucked-away places of repose.  

Maybe you recall a recent post where I shared a photo of myself near the top of a grain elevator in Norman’s Crossing, Texas.   Last night I was near that big thing again while working on a story.   Getting ready to head toward home, looking up, there were two friends perched on the top!    Note that I didn’t quite travel that far, stopping nearby, where something to grasp presented itself.  But here were these two young ladies, taking in the view under a Waxing Gibbous moon.  That hand sign in one photo is (I think) a Texas Tech thing.    I managed to get up enough fortitude to climb, but just enough to say howdy and take a few photos.   It is quite a nice view.