This old farmhouse, obviously long abandoned, was something I happened on tonight, once again, a little west of Granger, Texas.   The vines have begun to take over.   Although this is a scene on the prairie, it brings to mind a vine I saw for many years in Georgia … kudzu.    If you’re curious about kudzu, look it up via Google, or whatever search engine you like.   Whatever this clinging plant, I found its persistence an interesting subject for a camera.   Look closely and you’ll see a little floral touch, too.

Color or black-and-white?   It’s a question I still find interesting.  This field of corn, which seems to go into infinity west of Granger, Texas tonight, is presented for your consideration.  In this instance, I think color prevails, but am always open to other thoughts. 

My wanderings often take me on the country roads outside Taylor.  While those are grand, one of the best therapies is less than one mile away, with the birds around and above the tiny lake at Murphy Park in Taylor, Texas.   Most times when I visit this spot, my fold-out chair comes out, I sit down with the cameras and watch what happens until the light fades away.   These were taken on a Friday night therapy session.     Make of them what you will.

If you travel just a few miles east, you’ll find yourself at Granger Lake, but the town of Granger, Texas, with just over 1400 residents, is not right next to that body of water.   Nevertheless, the town’s annual festival is called Lakefest.   This year’s event was number 39 for this Central Texas town about 45 miles northeast of Austin.    The  festival included a parade, vendors, music, a barbecue cook-off.  Back by popular demand this year was a kolache bake-off.  The kolache is a Czech-inspired confection.   Being a fellow from Northeast Texas, where doughnuts rule, I don’t know much about them, but they’re popular around here.    Actress Sissy Spacek’s grandparents are from Granger.   As a kid growing up in Texas, she spent copious amounts of time here.   A few years ago, Granger doubled as Fort Smith, Arkansas for the remake of “True Grit.”   If you take away the cars, trucks and power lines, you could actually imagine yourself back in the late-1800s.   In particular, I like West Davilla Street, still paved with bricks, just like where I grew up.   The little girl was glad mom was nearby when that gigantic truck in the parade blew its very loud horn.   This is Texas, of course, but Granger could be anywhere in small-town America.  These photos were taken for my friends at the Williamson County Sun.

Cherokee, Texas is a very small community we passed through on a recent day trip.   A recent census has Cherokee, in San Saba County, with a little under 200 people.   It was a quiet interlude on a nice Sunday drive.   And it translates well in black and white.   If you blink, you might miss Cherokee.  I didn’t blink.

This is one of those periodic things where I take a peek back in time.   East 6th Street in Austin, Texas is a place where I spent I lot of time with my camera in 1973.   It was during the time when I was studying photojournalism at UT-Austin.   Back then, and for years before, it was a gathering place for a variety of folks.  Some were blue-collar workers, catching buses home, or stopping by a bar for a nightcap before heading home.    East  6th Street was also  an oasis for  people facing hard times, dealing with substance abuse and mental illness issues.   A few months ago, I visited the area for the first time in 40-plus years.   While it’s changed, and become “trendy” for locals and visitors alike, there are still those in pain wandering the same path as 44 years ago.   These are 1973 images, just street scenes.

At first glance, you might think this is yet another little missive about corn, but the barn’s the subject this time.   You just can’t avoid corn this time of the year.    Since we moved to Taylor in the summer of 2009, I’ve had my eye on this barn.   The problem has been the barn’s location, a little off the main road.   One rule of thumb I try to follow is NOT going on private property for my subjects.   Although there’s a house in front, I’d not once seen a soul there.  Then, about two weeks ago, I spied a couple tilling a little garden next to the house.   I pulled in, introduced myself and asked if it would be okay to occasionally come on their property to take photos.  They were quite gracious and welcomed me anytime.  The reason I’ve not found anyone there is because the couple lives in Austin, coming to the family farmhouse when time allows.    This fits the definition of a “weathered barn” for sure!   On my first visit the other night, right up next to one side rested a rusty 1963 (I think) Chevrolet Impala, rode hard and put up wet.   I’ll visit this one again, folks.   It took almost eight years, but I am a persistent fellow.

Last evening, just before day’s end, the sun managed to peek through a gathering of Blackland Prairie clouds.    The day brought little rain, but plenty of soft lighting.

At some point, you may tire of these agricultural posts, but they speak volumes about where I live here on the Blackland Prairie in Central Texas.    In this  area of the state, land masses can change rapidly.   The area where we live,  in East Williamson County, about 30 miles northeast of Austin, is rich with very dark and elegant soil.   Go west a few miles, cross Interstate 35, and you’ll be coming into the beginnings of the Texas Hill Country, a profound change.    At any rate, tonight’s photos are about corn.   A waxing gibbous moon, just about full, shows up sometimes, when it’s not too cloudy.   Then there’s the little shack, sitting smack dab in the middle of another field, slightly tilting due to the passage of time, and Texas wind.   I’m told that shack was at one time for field hands.  It’s vacant now, but holding its own.   It’s been a hard time for my immediate family.  This is most definitely a time for photo therapy. 

The clouds have rolled in tonight, but last night the Blackland Prairie skies were vibrant and beautiful.   We have, of course, many beautiful bits of sky magic around here, but once again, let me say this:  I never get tired of seeing it.