After a drive around the county that produced nothing, I found myself just down the street from home, at Taylor’s Bull Branch Park. Heaven knows what I was thinking, unloading the tripod and wandering into a chilly mist. After a time, with the mist increasing its presence, turning into more of a steady rain, I moseyed on back home. Still, to be by the meandering stream, among the cypress trees, is sweet. 
There’s something about American flags that I find intriguing. Through the years I’ve pointed my cameras at them many times. Don’t get me wrong, friends. I love the Texas state flag quite a bit, too, but the American flag has a universality. There’s this old barn in Northeast Williamson County that recently got my attention. It’s an elegant pairing. For this “exercise” the barn is presented in both color and black-and-white. Perhaps the color rules the day, but as you know, I like to piddle around sometimes. Presented here are six images, the first before the day gave up its light, progressing to a time well after dark. The color versions are first, followed by the same photo in shades of gray. I do like the night photos, but it’s instructive to look at how the progression of time affects a subject. 
While many friends were watching a football game tonight, I was wandering around on the prairie. While I like football per se, professional foot ball is something I removed from my psyche many years ago. Most days, my preference is prairie rambling. This is along a farm-to-market road a hair east of Walburg, Texas. I included the second photo when I noticed a cowboy hat attached to the fellow in the driver’s seat. It is Texas, you know.
After completing another assignment in Georgetown this morning, I drove through San Gabriel Park. It was a drizzly morning, with temperatures maybe in the mid-40s. In a park field there were a group of young folks being cajoled and pushed, but the youngsters seemed to relish the workout. Naturally, curiosity got the best of me so I stopped for a few minutes. As it happens, Marine Corps recruiters were conducting combat fitness tests for future Marines, and those thinking about becoming Marines. These fitness exercises are meant to give participants a feel for the physicality of combat, but without weapons. Several of those gathered are “poolees,” a word I learned today. A poolee is someone who has been accepted into the military, but has yet to enter the service. In most cases, it’s because they’re still in high school. Think of it as a pool of available people. There were also “guests” at today’s workout, those considering the Marine Corps, but haven’t made up their minds. The young lady in the red Marines sweatshirt was a guest. Her older brother is a Marine, her father was also a Marine. It’s a family tradition. Anyway, the Georgetown Marine Corps recruiting station holds these occasional sessions, timed events that put participants through their paces: i.e.. running, crawling, carrying another person on one’s back, toting two ammo canisters, 30 pounds each, while running. And there are active duty Marines on hand to give them that extra push. It was fun to watch, and very instructive. It’s interesting that as the world changes, more women are being sent into combat roles. The nicest part of the session? Each and every one of these young adults called my old self “sir.” Even if I don’t deserve that honor, I like their style. And their manners.
This is a photo I took earlier this week at St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery in Taylor, Texas. The monument to Jesus Christ was added in 1931. If you’re driving along the road that borders the cemetery, this is the first thing you see. This is a pretty old burial place. Perhaps I’ll stop by for another visit. It’s intriguing.
A Noack, Texas farmer was very kind to allow me to set up shop last evening to try for photos of the coming full moon. I had met him a while back when taking photos of a tornado that ripped through East Williamson County, Texas. The tornado, actually two or three of them if memory serves, made quick work of two elevators on this site. I was happy to see that the ones destroyed were replaced with two shiny new versions. Since standing around waiting for something to happen isn’t acceptable, I pointed my little camera at the shiny metal reflecting the last of the day’s prairie light. My farmer friend offered to let me climb up the ladder with my cameras for photos, but on that I passed. A tripod on solid ground was the way to go. 
This morning, anticipating photos of a lunar eclipse, I rose a bit after 5. When stepping outside, I was greeted by a thick covering of pre-dawn fog. Not one to just give up, I drove around for about 15 minutes before calling it a (sleepy) morning. But you do have full moon photos, both from tonight, in Noack, Texas, at Christ Lutheran Church, a congregation for 125 years, and from last night, a cormorant above the rookery at Taylor’s Murphy Park, followed by huge mess of grackles zooming past. Although not technically perfect, I’m thankful for the Noack farmer who allowed me to set up my gear near his grain elevators, which afforded a good view of the church. What I didn’t know, however, was where the dang moon would rise. Nature accommodated though, with the blood moon rising nicely. Again, I wish they were more technically correct, but I’m fine with them. We’ll see what happens the next time an eclipse rolls around, or I hope we do.
One of my Saturday stops was in Walburg, where I attended the 8th Annual Walburg Invitational Barbecue Cook-Off for my friends at the Williamson County Sun. 18 teams were on hand to compete in three categories: chicken, pork ribs and brisket. Some lucky attendees had the opportunity to sample some of the entries. The older folks doing the tasting are judges, but not the 19-month-old, who was making fast work of some tasty-looking ribs. Proceeds from the cook-off this year were donated to “Food For Friends,” a Granger/Bartlett-area food pantry who serves almost 200 free hot meals every week. 
When I left home Saturday morning for assignments in Georgetown and Walburg, the fog was making its presence known in a big way. My normal route west was a good bit slower as a result. Seeing ten yards in front of my hood was a task. But as I passed over the San Gabriel River, the sight of a fly fisherman squarely in its mist sure got my notice. With a few minutes to spare before the first assignment, I pulled over and did a little bit of climbing to address the scene and get that all-important context. Fog, even when it’s presented in color, like these images, reveals its ability to simplify a photograph, much like black and white. While I’ve never tried fly-fishing, everyone I’ve ever seen practicing this art seems to be getting a taste of serenity whether or not they get a nibble. It’s the being-there part they love. It’s a calming therapy, or, as I like to claim, a meditation. A few are offered for your viewing. 
On January 23, 2017, Georgetown cyclist Tommy Ketterhagen died when struck by a motorist on Patriot Way, not far from his high school alma mater, East View High. After the tragedy, Tommy’s cycling team, Austin’s 787 Racing, helped make a ghost bike to honor him a reality. Saturday morning, that team remembered him with an 80-mile ride, beginning at Mellow Johnny’s in Austin. About halfway through the ride, the group paused at the ghost bike for a few minutes. Tommy’s family and friends were there, including his parents, Tom and Luz Ketterhagen, his brothers and sisters, and many family friends. Perhaps the most moving sight was after the cyclists had moved on, when Tommy’s youngest sister, 2, spent a few minutes at the ghost bike. She’s in the last two photos. A few days after Tommy’s death, a young man came forward, taking responsibility. He recently pleaded guilty. A sentence will come in early-March, most likely a 2-year prison term followed by 10 years probation. Hopefully, his life beyond punishment will move forward. There are no winners here. When you’re on the road, friends, be smart, be cautious. 
