This is one of those barns I periodically like to visit with a camera.   If it looks familiar, it’s the one referred to in previous iterations as my “birthday barn.” This one’s close to home, maybe less than two miles from our home in Taylor.    For years I wanted to photograph it, but never saw a living soul at the house in front.   A few months ago, when I finally did see a couple there, they graciously allowed me to come by whenever I like.  So I do.   These were taken the other night.   As the days get shorter, the light, as far as yours truly is concerned, gets better …. sooner.    There’s a little bit of tripod use, long exposure and light painting here.   A new friend recently asked how I felt about artificial light.  Mostly, I told her, I like natural light, but sometimes it’s fun to think outside the box.   This barn, according to a family member, is a bit over a hundred years old.   Staying power, friends. 

Admittedly, I have not watched the Ken Burns documentary about Vietnam.   Since it’s 18-hours, maybe I’ll wait for a replay, or get it on disk.   But it did bring to mind a picture story I worked on about Max Cleland in 1981, during my time at the Atlanta Journal & Constitution.    In 1968, Cleland, a 25-year-old Army Captain, sustained life-altering injuries during the battle at Khe Sanh, resulting in the loss of both legs above the knee as well as his right arm.   Not to the held down by this tragedy, Cleland returned home to Georgia, serving in the Georgia State Senate from 1971-75.   When Jimmy Carter became President, Cleland followed him to Washington, where he oversaw the Veterans Administration.  The photos presented here were taken after his return to the Atlanta area.   Not long after my story published, he ran for, and won, the office of Georgia Secretary of State, a job held until 1996.    But he didn’t stop there, going on to win the United States Senate seat of the retiring Sam Nunn, remaining in that job until defeated by Republican Saxby Chambliss.   If my Wikipedia search proves right, Mr. Cleland, now 75,  is still active, serving as Secretary of the American Battle Monuments Commission.   I was thankful that Max allowed me to be his sidekick while I trolled just about everywhere with him for a while.  During this time, I was an avid distance runner, a a pretty active fellow, but so was Cleland.   He loved basketball, and swam like the best fish in any ocean.   My favorite photo here is the last one, where he received a hearty ovation after a speech at an elementary school.    

d

For a while this evening I wasn’t seeing a whole lot, but then happened on this mama longhorn spending time with her calf.   It’s a simple little photo.  Lately, I’ve been getting in touch with my black and white side, really the old side when you consider my age.   It’s presented in its original form here, too.  Black and white can clarify and draw your eye to what’s important.   I could go either way, but lean monotone.

On this rainy night, I drove a little east of Taylor, to the area around Wuthrich Hill, Texas.   The main structure there, of course, is Prince of Peace Lutheran Church, but this evening’s photos focus on the a country road that passes through the Blackland Prairie farmland.   Three photos are presented, the first and last being the same image, but converted to black and white.  This time, I’m not certain if b/w is preferred.   Actually, the second photo, when the took on that blue cast I love, might be the favorite.   It’s fun to think about though.

Let’s keep tonight’s post simple.   In fact, go a step further.  Let’s stay in black and white mode.   These two images were taken at Taylor’s Murphy Park earlier this evening, one a small herd of winged beauties making their descent through the clouds, en route to the rookery.   The second, a great blue heron, biding her time in the lake, next to the rookery.   There must be a pecking order at the rookery … no herons allowed.  Still, she remained patient as her avian cousins hovered toward their night’s rest.   Earlier today a friend gave me the most wonderful compliment … my photos brought some peace to her stressful life.   That makes what I do matter.  

On an evening drive on Friday, the first day of autumn, I traveled east, along F.M. 112, to Noack, Texas.   Christ Lutheran Church, a beautiful old structure with a congregation in the area for 125 years, was damaged by a tornado that tore through East Williamson County in February.  Thankfully, the main body of the church was spared, but the west wing was sheared off.   When I drove by the other night, all was good!    If it weren’t for the church, you wouldn’t know you’d actually been through a tiny Texas community.   I’m glad it’s here.   Note that the opening photo is presented twice, once in black and white.   I’m not sure what works, but do love monotone imagery.  The third photo here shows the area destroyed, once again whole.   The last photo doesn’t include the church, just a cool little tree out front.  Above the tree?  A waxing crescent moon, of course. 

Georgetown hosted the 8th Annual Williamson County Alzheimer’s Walk this morning at San Gabriel Park.   The event is a fundraiser for Alzheimer’s support and research, with all fund raised staying in Texas.    While there are many terrible illnesses out there, this, it seems to me, is one of the worst.   The opening photo … that’s a daughter planting a kiss on her mom, Becky, during the walk.   Becky is only 51, but was diagnosed last November with Alzheimer’s.   They had a team there, Team Becky, many of them wearing tutus.  Team Becky raised $3,039 today.   Another photo during the walk gives us Anne, with her caregiver from Wesleyan Homes, Laura.   Also taking part were miniature horses from Miniwonders of Texas.   Throughout the year this group takes their sweet little horses around to area nursing homes and memory care facilities.  They were here today in support of another Georgetown group, Visiting Angels.   Taking part in the walk in one photo  was Cowboy Tuxedo, who didn’t seem to mind sharing the trail with Teddy, a Golden Doodle.   The last photo?  That’s a son, probably well into his 50s, holding his mom’s hand during the event.   When we returned to Texas, in 2009, our neighbor was taking good care of his wife, both dealing with this dreaded disease.   What I remember most, before she died, was the slow walks they’d take from their house, him holding her hand, taking it as slow as she wanted.    I hope science finds help for the theft of our cherished memories.   These photos were taken for my friends at the Williamson County Sun.

If you follow my work, you know full well that I prefer the beauty of low light outdoors.  Some might even call them night scenes.  Summer is a tough time for those of us crave this delicate presence.   I’ve said it before, but Daylight Saving Time is not my friend.   Apologies to friends who hold onto that last bit of a day, but not yours truly.   When the light gets low, I get going.   We’re still not back to Central Standard Time, but we’re getting there.   The opening photo, in black and white, is a peaceful road between Weir and Granger.   Ducks gather at Bull Branch Park.   And grain elevators share space with train tracks in Taylor, a waxing crescent moon above, 8.7% visible.    Welcome to autumn. 

These are photos I took a few mornings ago, but held onto them for a while.   It’s an old shack near our home that I’ve photographed a few times.   It rests squarely in the middle of a field used for crops.   When certain things grow (think corn) you don’t really see it.   But it’s there.   These were taken just after dawn,  just two photos, presented here in both color and black and white.   I’ve been remiss about posting b/w images lately.   It’s a good exercise in seeing.    This decrepit structure, from what folks tell me, was once used as a home for hired hands.   Since returning to Texas in 2009, it’s been nicely taking up space in that field.   It’s one of the subjects I like to revisit from time to time. 

Pardon tonight’s brevity, but I’m only posting two photos.   These are a little north of our Taylor home and a wee bit south of Granger.   Both are on the same county road.   Like so many byways on the Blackland Prairie, it’s a nice way to travel with one’s camera.    Although I don’t know why, I like that some folks leave a light on outside their barns.   That little touch adds presence to an already-lovely structure.