Last night was one of those times where I needed to stay close to home.  Thankfully, our area parks are filled with things worth seeing.   We have a hike-and-bike trail that winds through Taylor.   Bull Branch Creek runs close to its path.   This section, photographed last evening?  I think it’s also called Bull Branch Park, but am not sure.   It’s a long stretch of land connecting Bull Branch Park to Murphy Park.    Local folks here for a while might know the answer.  At any rate, in certain parts, where the park lighting takes control a bit, the scenes are rather arresting.   This post is topped off with what I saw in the sky while there.   Is that a planet, or a star, to the left of the moon?   If you’re interested in technique, the first two photos are long exposures utilizing a tripod.  That last one’s just a basic old grab shot. 

As I make my way around the Blackland Prairie, the signs of growth are everywhere.  While I understand some of it, it’s kind of sad to see the land used for farming and ranching for so long fall victim to so-called progress.  Nevertheless, signs of the past manifest in a few farmhouses still standing in East Williamson County, Texas.   Some, like in  the opening photo, are intact, but I seldom see signs of life there. That field in front, however, is still actively-cultivated.    The other couple, being slowly consumed by unchecked trees, have morphed into memories, now more home to critters.   As people continue to find affordable land and lives, some of this prairie will go away.  Hopefully, not before I record as much as strength allows.  

With as much rain as we’ve had recently (it’s raining as I write tonight), I don’t have good feelings about the fields of unpicked cotton I’m seeing around the prairie.   As long as it’s out there, in whatever condition, I’ll document it.   The first couple are fields a little outside Granger.  The last two include the old hand shack I visit quite a lot.  The last two are the same image, but one’s presented in black-and-white, just for the heck of it.

While it’s always an honor to document events related to the 9/11 anniversary, there are times, like this evening, when I need to unplug.   Rainbows, fleeting bits of color preceded by rain, are calming.   Stopping by HEB for a few groceries, this rainbow materialized.   Since they usually don’t stay around long, I put the grocery errand on hold and chased color  for a few minutes.   Then it was gone, but not before I managed to come up with something.    Once done, it was back to. HEB for much-needed eggs.  

For the last several years, on the anniversary of the September 11, 2001 tragedies in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C., I’ve found my way to Birkelbach Field in Georgetown, Texas for an annual  remembrance by first responders in our area, their Memorial Stair Climb.   The climb, in a most physical way, honors the service of fire and police personnel in New York City.   Participants trudge up and down the stadium steps the equivalent of 110-stories at the World Trade Center.   It’s always a moving event.   This year, the Georgetown High School football team stood in silence on the field as things got underway.  Brothers, ages 7 and 10, representing their Cub Scout pack,  handed out water and sports drinks to participants.   A member of the fire department’s Pipes & Drums played “Amazing Grace.”   Thanks to recent rain, it was cooler, but the bleachers, made of metal, were very slippery.  Challenges to overcome.   One firefighter friend reminded me that this shouldn’t be about politics.   He’s right.  Another participant wonders about what those born after 9/11 will remember.   I do, too. These photos were taken for the Williamson County Sun.

It’s interesting that in my wanderings, I actually land on a theme.  These three photos, barns in various states of life,  were taken last night (the first image) and earlier tonight.  In case you ask, of course they’re not far from home.  My sense is the first two are past their expiration date, but that last one?   There’s a light on there for a reason.    Have a good night, friends. 

A while back, , a recently-added Facebook friend, noticing my interest in documenting churches, mentioned New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church, in far northeast Travis County, a stone’s throw from Manor.    These are photos taken there last evening, but for several years I have photographed this beautiful place.  Not long after returning to Texas, in 2009, I was driving from  Taylor to Austin via a farm-to-market road.  On my left, in the far distance, there was this spire, rising above the prairie.   Because of the nomenclature of where we live, it was visible for miles. Since then, I’ve stopped by occasionally.   These are the latest versions.   For years, the church’s sermons were only in Swedish.  That changed, I think, in the 1930s.   The history, however, remains.  

Is this beginning to be a broken record?  Nevertheless, my fascination with the rookery at Taylor’s Murphy Park continues.   As long as there’s air in my lungs, this will be a place returned to as often as possible. It centers and calms the stress of any given day.  As mentioned before, this place is a meditation.   One of the nice things about the rookery is simple:  I get off the country roads, actually standing, or sitting, and watching what happens.  No motor vehicles urging me to mosey along.    Another plus:  it’s a mile from our house.  Even if it wasn’t, I’d still stop by, early in the morning, or, as with these photos taken recently, in the hours leading to the mellowness of fading light.  

The Bartlett High School Bulldogs football team  had their home opening tonight as they took on a team also called the Bulldogs, from Dawson, Texas.   Bartlett is a small Central Texas community of a little over 1600 that rests in both Willamson and Bell Counties.  When I think of Friday Night Lights, it’s these tiny communities that come to mind.  The Bartlett public school system is home to (at this writing) 341 students.  Despite its size, it’s a diverse and inclusive community.     I’ll leave it there.  

As part of our photojournalism  program at University of Texas in Austin in the early 70s we learned in the ins and outs of view camera work.  For those not familiar, a view camera is one of  those very large bellows-operated things that requires use of a tripod, with the photographer ensconced  under a black cover, focusing  on ground glass that is upside down and reversed.   While making exposures on 4×5-inch sheet film could yield amazing results, one of the reasons for the class was to make us slow down and really “see” what we were framing.   It was a grand idea.   I can’t speak for my fellow students,  but when I returned to a 35mm camera, I really did see things more clearly.   These photos were among a few taken in the East Austin neighborhoods in 1973, back then a working-class neighborhood.   The neighborhood’s still with us, but now has become gentrified, way too pricey for many of the area’s long-ago residents.  One thing this post doesn’t do is give you a sense of the detail obtained from a large-format camera.