Last weekend, my cameras and I visited Grace Heritage Center, just south of the Georgetown square, at the corner of 9th and Main Street.   A children’s event scheduled turned up no kids, but I like this old structure a lot so I stayed and visited for a while.  The Grace Heritage Center is also home base for  the Georgetown Heritage Society, whose mission is to preserve and protect historic Georgetown.  Grace Heritage Center began its life in 1881 as Grace Episcopal Church.  The original location was just a block south, at the corner of 10th and Main.   It was built for the whopping sum of $2,186, a lot of money in those days.  In 1955, the church was moved a few blocks east, to University Avenue, just across from Southwestern University.  It remained there until 1991, when replaced by a newer, larger church for its congregants.  Rather than let the venerable structure fall victim to demolition, however, the City of Georgetown assumed ownership, moving it to its present site.   Back to last weekend:  as I prepared to leave, a dapper gentleman, Norman Griffith, who turns 90 in November, stopped in to inquire about renting the sanctuary for an event.   Griffith is a retired Episcopal priest who attended Grace when it was still a church, back in the 80s.   He has fond memories here.  Much of the interior is original, including the pews, and the hardwood floors.  It is meticulously maintained.   In early-November, Grace with get an exterior makeover, expected to take about a month.   I’m happy to see it cared for, with grace, of course.

As night came to Williamson County, Texas this evening, the San Gabriel River was a peaceful place to learn some kayaking skills while a young girl’s dad did some late-day fishing.   This was about 20 minutes past sundown, when the light was a soothing blue.

I have an affection for Texas Longhorns.  By that, I mean the cows.  They are just grand boys and girls.     Elegant would not be too strong a word to describe these beauties.    Last night, I wandered out the door, doing one of my drive-about adventures, just seeing what there is to see on the Blackland Prairie.  Just over a mile from home, however, I saw some friends….Tulip, Crybaby and a big boy named Sancho, always a shy fellow.   He’s the fourth photo down.   The group was  joined by an unnamed calf, just growing into its horns.   Without a second thought, I backed up and pulled into the driveway of Taylor friends Deby and Mike Lannen.   Deby loves her longhorns, thus the names.   Apparently, our bovine friends preferred the back pasture.   I followed them to Deby and Mike’s house.  Deby greeted me and gave her blessing for photos, commenting on the nice skies in her “back yard.”   This will be a photo-heavy post, friends.   I adore these critters.  And Texas skies, too.

Here’s a few photos I took at last weekend’s 9th Annual Wine and Music Fest, sponsored by the Downtown Georgetown Association.   Some of the music was  provided by saxophonist Mike Hamilton.  Let me tell you, friends, if you haven’t heard this guy, you need to.   It was a good afternoon on the square, not diminished in the least by a strong, but quickly-moving band of rain showers.   It’s all good.

Sometimes, a face just gets your attention.   Bryan, who I met at the 67th Annual Taylor Rodeo last weekend, has one of those faces.    He may have had a beer or two, I’m not certain, but even without the aid of strong drink, he’d still have that visage.  Bryan was working in the livestock support area.  He was not competing, but he won my attention.   And his images cry out for black and white.  The last one of these three is reminiscent of a photo I took in 1973, on East 6th Street in Austin, Texas.  At some point, I’ll find that negative and post it.

This was something I’d planned to post earlier today, but hearing of the death of golf legend Arnold Palmer, at 87, caught me off guard.   Anyway, these are a few images taken at this year’s 67th Annual Taylor Rodeo, sponsored by the Taylor Rodeo Association.   Normally, this fine event is held in July, but a renovation of the Williamson County Expo Center, where the rodeo is held, put things off.   I’m happy to see they were able to carry on this year.   As with most times when I document rodeo, I concentrate on the culture of the sport, as opposed to the action that takes place in arenas.  Rodeo action, it must be said, is pretty neat though.   And so is mutton bustin, for the little folks and their sheep.   These photos include a little bit of the audience, some support personnel, the Lone Star Cow Girls drill team, from Magnolia, Texas.   And  a very friendly dog on the back lot.  

Thank goodness!   We have achieved rain in Central Texas, friends.   While none of us want flooding, most of us welcome the moisture.   Let’s hope the precipitation forecast for tonight and Monday cleanses the air of ragweed and ushers in some cooler temperatures.  Lord have mercy, it is autumn after all.  Here I present you with a little symphony of raindrops, from my back porch this afternoon.

There are so many things I could post tonight, but I don’t feel the need to be labor-intensive.   Rather than do that, let’s just give you sense of of what I so often see from my car seat, or in a mirror, or over its roof.   It’s incredibly-peaceful here.

A friend made a Facebook post Thursday, tongue in cheek, regarding autumn in Central Texas: it’s  the beginning of our second summer.   With temperatures topping out in the mid-90s yesterday, I got that.   The Autumnal Equinox officially arrived in the Austin area at 9:21a.m. Central Daylight Time.   I wasn’t feeling the need to record its toasty start.   A little before 4p.m., however,  plans changed.   So what if it’s hot?   It’s still a new season.   A first stop was the Georgetown Public Library, where I played on Facebook for a while.   A few minutes before 6, I got back in the car and headed for Berry Springs Park & Preserve.   If nothing else, it’s a good place to watch birds on the pond and take in the beautiful trees.  After visiting with some herons, it was time to head for home.  But the clouds were dancing nicely.   And a young fellow on a swing was getting some big pushes from his dad, almost high enough, it seemed, to touch the sky.   It was a fitting start to autumn after all.  

“All of our years here on the farm have been good.  Of course, I’m talking about the living of them, not the economy of them.  The way I see it, anything you love and enjoy doing is not work.  And I’ve done it from can to can’t.”

–Georgia farmer J.M. Brown in 1983

Mr. Brown, 71,  during the time I worked on this story, was the patriarch of a Georgia family of farmers that began with his grandfather.   In 1983,  he was joined by his son, Jimmy, 52, and Jimmy’s sons, Danny, 26, and Chuck, 22.   Together they farmed 1500 acres in South Fulton County, Georgia, the county home to Atlanta.   Over the several months working on the story, they were traditional farmers, tilling the often-parched land, but diversified, harvesting trees for lumber and adding catfish to their pond, where fishermen paid to put their hooks in the water.  It was all part of making a living the best way they knew how, keeping them to close to the land.  They juggled bills and fixed the farm equipment themselves.   That labor took its toll on the elder Brown’s back, landing him in the hospital for a while, but his wife, Vivian was always there for him.  Perhaps  nicest thing that happened was the birth of Chuck’s daughter, Ashley Ann.  That’s J.M. Brown in the last photo, holding his great-granddaughter, the sixth generation to live on the family land.