On the way home after a bit of wandering this evening, I noticed some wonderful light gracing freight train cars between Taylor and Hutto.   The drive home was delayed a few minutes while I found a safe place to take a few photos.   These tracks run parallel to United States Highway 79, a very busy place!    Thankfully, there was a nice shoulder  to make it a little safer.   Golden light during those  golden few minutes.

It was another one of those times when I had no idea if I’d find anything worthy of a photograph, but then a beautiful tree on a hill east of Granger came into view as sunset approached.   The tree photo is followed by two more photos while the sun completed its nightly mission.    But that tree resonates with me.    Returning home tonight,  a friend on Facebook posted about the loss  an 80-100 year-old tree to make way for a Texas Department of Transportation  road-widening project.   That tree, nature’s gift, is gone.   It brings to mind a pecan tree in our front yard when growing up in 1950s-60s Texarkana.   One of three old-growth trees, it had developed a possibly-fatal affliction.  Daddy hired a tree doctor, who came to our home and brought that tree back to life.   Years later, after I graduated from college, I returned to find all three pecan trees  destroyed to widen the road in front of my childhood home.  Trees matter more than roads. 

Perhaps it’s a simplistic thing to say, but I’m often just mentally absorbing the light when the camera’s shutter clicks.  At this time of year we’re blessed with nature’s elegance.   Often mentioned, but I can’t paint, draw or sculpt a doggone thing, but maybe I have a good sense of  what works in a scene.     The horse and pond are from this evening, the lone cow from  a recent cool blue night.   The horse and pond are in Northeast Travis County, the cow lives near Taylor.   It’s a goal to document the prairie before progress beats it into submission.

As if you need a reminder, I love windmills.   Almost everyone you see is no longer used for its intended purpose, but their presence remains.    That matters to me.   These were taken in the past  few days.   The one that includes two windmills was on a misty evening.   The other two include snippets of sunlight.    I’ll continue doing this for as long as they’re around.

This is a hand shack I’ve photographed numerous times through the years.  The one you see here  is from this morning, when clouds still hovered overhead.   This structure has also  been called a “pickers shack,” a place for seasonal farm workers to stay during their time here.   Few of these remain,  but this one in Taylor is still with us.   During the warmer months the shack is covered in brush and vines, not visible at all.   Winter gives us a peek of what was.   It’s along a county road that was closed to traffic in 2023 for a road-widening project.   It’s still closed, but early Saturday morning no road crews were at work.   This is a photograph that reads well in black-and-white.    Color is good, but sometimes monotone says more.

A little bit more seen on an entire week  adorned with fog, mist and rain.  We truly need the rain,  but foggy scenes are an added gift.   These four are from Taylor, Beyersville and Granger.

It’s a good thing I’m always keeping an eye on my surroundings!    You’d be amazed (or perhaps not) at the number of dogs running around on country roads.  Just south of Granger this week, a couple of energetic canines decided to chase my car.   I stopped, rolled down the window, suggesting they mosey on home.  This one fellow (girl?) chose to stand right by  the front bumper for about a minute, finally letting me pass, then once again giving chase.     Folks barrel down this road quite a lot.  Hopefully, they’re on the lookout.

This photograph has been resting on my computer’s desktop since November.   At times that workspace gets crowded.    This impeccable barn is in none of the counties I usually photograph, perhaps 90 minutes away from our Taylor home.    Mentioned before, but Texas may be the only state that adorns its structures like this.     Just clearing off the desktop, my friends.  

Fog is among the most elegant weather conditions on this planet, adding a touch of serenity to almost any scene.    We’ve had fog, mist and rain for three days in Central Texas.   We need every last drop of rain we can get.    Offered tonight are some recent examples from my wanderings on the Blackland Prairie.   A full moon is visible somewhere tonight, but not here.   And that’s quite alright.  

Of course the water isn’t precisely blue, but at certain times of the evening (or morning) bodies of water can impart that feeling.    I like small ponds a lot.  They’re often intimate spaces, tucked into fields and pastures.   Here in Texas, where many are used for livestock, they’re called tanks.    I do not.  The word seems to minimize their nature.  My grandfather, Carl Bradley, and his brother, my Great-Uncle Harry, were Texas farmers for much of the 20th Century, beginning in the early-1900s.    Uncle Harry called his a pond, a gentler word.  He taught me how to fish there.   Uncle Harry was a gentle soul.   But I digress.  These are photos taken last night and this evening, on the cusp of full twilight, retaining that sweet blue.   The Great Egret isn’t quite tack-sharp, but the photograph merits a look here.   Just blue stuff, friends.