Grackles are fascinating birds.   Around these parts, they’re not always well-liked.  And for good reason.   For instance, you don’t want to park your vehicle under a tree where grackles reside.  If you do, beware of the “gift” you receive.   If grackles were common in Georgia, where we lived for 29 years, they stayed in the shadows, or I didn’t notice them.   When we came home to Texas, however, they seemed to be everywhere, in great numbers.   These photos were taken this week on the birds’ evening gathering, first stopping at Taylor Regional Park, then moving slightly east, to the parking lot at our local HEB supermarket.   Once situated near the grocery, they relax on the wires, in the trees and even on the store’s roof.   What’s really intriguing is how they fly in such large packs and don’t seem to run into one another.   The post begins last evening, where I watched a few birds as the sun went down at Taylor Regional Park.   A couple of images are black and white.   At times, monotone is preferred.   Grackles, I have to say, are the kudzu of Texas.

One of these days maybe I’ll have a specific plan for the things I document.   Until then, I’ll do the usual, wander, drive-around, or ramble.   Last night was no different.    As mentioned many times, these outings are therapy, or perhaps a meditation.  Whatever they’re called, the goal is to clear the mind’s cobwebs.   When returning home with nothing to show for it (that does happen), however, the meditation flops, as does the therapy.    Some of what I did last evening:  watch a car motor up a slight incline on County Road 417, past Prince of Peace Lutheran Church Cemetery; spend a few moments observing a Great Egret search for a meal in a stock pond along County Road 418; breathe  in a field’s beauty at sunset, with a horse grazing peacefully, followed about 15 minutes later by another horse relaxing at a barn’s entrance; for fun, I’ve included what I see sometimes in my rear-view mirrors, this along County Road 413.   These outings may not occur every day (or night), but I do what I can. 

Initially, I wasn’t feeling the inspiration tonight, but found a pleasant scene along F.M. 619, east of Taylor, as motorists made their way home.   That was followed by a stop at Murphy Park, where the resident geese seemed content, the park’s lake mostly their domain.   

Recently, I posted photos from a Georgetown church’s pumpkin patch, but on the city’s western edge there’s another thriving patch, at San Gabriel Presbyterian Church, on Williams Drive.   While doing my drive-about on Saturday morning, I stopped by to see what I could find.   I’d gotten some good images and was about to call it a day when this lovely little lady, Athena Dermody, who will soon be 5-years-old, barreled down the hill in her bright blue dress and tiara.   Athena, you see, is a big fan of the movie “Frozen.”   Grandma explained this isn’t Athena’s Halloween costume, but a birthday present from last year.  She chose the attire for the family pumpkin outing.   At the expense of calling her cute (a word I’m not fond of), that might be a good description here.

These two photos are part of what I refer to as one of my drive-abouts.  On a drive-about,  my day begins early, well before dawn.   I just wander, taking in what I see.   These images were taken this morning as I left Taylor, headed for Georgetown.  The first photo was taken a little less than an hour before sunrise, a pond just outside Taylor.  It has no name that I know of, but I like seeing it.  The other photo, taken about a half-hour before sunrise, is the beautiful San Gabriel River, morning mist adding to its sweet persona.   If I could get from point a to point b quickly enough with cameras, I’d do a walk-about, but this  is what works.   We do what we do.

Just one image for this evening, along one of the Blackland Prairie’s peaceful country roads, just west of Taylor.   The skies were clear, the temperatures were dropping.  And hay was ready for its next customer.    Autumn comes late where I live, but it’s here, at least for a while.

The night air felt more autumn-like Thursday.  I stayed out a while after a visiting to the library, thinking I might take a drive into the country (again). Light on the facade of the McCrory Timmerman Building, however, got my attention. The sun was going down in the night sky, but also in the beautiful old structure’s windows.  The town was lively, it being a Third Thursday, when businesses stayed open late.  The building, once a mercantile, later a department store, was vacant for many years.  Moving back to Texas, in 2009, my wife occasionally mentioned what a pretty structure it was, but going to waste.  Then along came Judy Blundell, who felt it had potential.  As she once said, it has good bones.  Now it’s coming to life again, with retail shopping, a coffee shop, art gallery and loft apartments.   I’m glad to see it saved for future generations.  Also included here are some other scenes nearby, also on Second Street, including Taylor Station, just down the street.   The silhouette with the blazing sky behind it, on the southwest corner of Second and Main, was built in 1883.   It’s vacant now.   I’d like to see it refurbished, but it needs much work.

For many reasons I’ve scaled down my photo coverage of football games.    I don’t like toting (and running with) heavy gear up and down the sidelines.   Nor do I enjoy getting mowed down by overzealous players who don’t get it when a play is blown dead.  Just as important, however, are the elements.   Rainy weather on a football field is no fun.   In either 1976, or maybe 1977, I attended a game pitting Texas A&M against Southern Methodist University, in Dallas, Texas.  This was back when the Southwest Conference was still going strong.   It was an extremely-wet afternoon.  The Aggie yell leaders, along with their dog, were braving the elements.   In the fans, Aggie fans tried to stay dry as they cheered on their team.   Well into the second quarter, the Mustangs were ahead.   Included here is a photo of two friends, Dallas Times-Herald photographers Kurt Wallace and Skeeter Hagler.   My sense is they wanted to be elsewhere.   Fast-forward to November 2002, in Kennesaw, Georgia, when I covered the high school game at Harrison High School, where they played cross-county rival, Walton High.   The photo shows the Harrison team members cheering as the game neared its end, with Harrison prevaling 16-10.  This remains the wettest game I have ever covered.   More power to those who still enjoy the sidelines, bless your hearts.

Last evening, once again with no destination in mind, I left the house about thirty minutes ahead of sunset, listening to NPR’s “Marketplace.”  Ambling along County Road 366, I passed the home of Mike and Deby Lannen.  On impulse, I turned left on County Road 368.  When it came to an end,  about two miles on, left seemed like a good way to go, on County Road 369.  The sky was evolving nicely, a farmhouse looking grand on its hill.   With no cars in back, I stopped the car, stood on the road, and snapped a few frames before moseying along.   Just ahead, where the road ended at County Road 101, there were some cows, making their way to a weathered barn.  Some would say all barns are weathered, but they aren’t.    With traffic still non-existent, I left the car again and made a few frames, then turned right on 101.  Now I  was coming up on one of our busier highways, Chandler Road, used by morning commuters  to get from Taylor to Round Rock, Interstate 35, or maybe even Cedar Park.   But it’s also the night’s road home, too.   I suspect it  was a good drive for them.   Not caring to enter that little spot of traffic,  I turned around, retracing the road just traveled.  The cows were still smelling their barn.   Then, with skies almost on fire with red, there was a windmill in the far distance.  Luck was with me,  still no traffic.  I got out, made some photos, savoring the light.  Once again, I turned around just up the hill,  taking another right on County Road 369.    That farm seen in this post has a fine barn, too.  For reasons I don’t know, the owners leave a light on inside.  A Motel 6 for livestock?   I’ve photographed this scene before, but it still merits attention.  Snap.   Done for the night, I enjoyed the rest of my ride home on the prairie.  It never gets old.

Occasionally I’ll break from the routine of pictorials and community journalism to simply admire some nearby beauty.   Yesterday my wife mentioned her flower garden of zinnias was attracting interest from Monarch butterflies.   So I stepped into the back yard for a few minutes.  The last photo is sans butterfly, but it’s serene.