May 21, 2015
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These photos were taken last fall. I meant to write a detailed description and post them back then, but of course, I got caught up in football writing. Better late than never I suppose.
Turn a tight corner.
I’ve shown you
the stroll down the hill. This time…
I go the other way.
It isn’t out there, even if it kind of feels that way.
Fields of Tall Grass and Barley
Cross Straight Ahead
More and More.
Those powerlines have a way of messing up my photographs.
The new part.
Sky getting low all around me.
At this point in my walk, I’m dragging
So I’ll just skip to the end.
May 14, 2015
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The other day, it occurred to me that I should look back through my past profile pictures on Facebook, to see if there was one I’d like to use as my profile picture again. To my surprise, there were several worthy candidates, that, after all this time, still reflected my personality and who I am.
As I scrolled down through those past portraits, I realized that so much of life simply passes without our knowing. Even though I may have the same, distracted face in a lot of my photos, I’ve done a lot of different things. As camera technology has improve, I’ve changed glasses, traveled, even bought a house and moved. I’ve written more than I ever could have expected. I fear that soon, I’m going to wake up and feel ten years older.
But I know that God has a plan for me, and that no matter, what, he’s guiding my footsteps.
Inn For the Night
I’ve stayed in my share of crappy motels. Sometimes, I did so out of necessity, as I did when I visited Omro, Wisconsin
to harvest corn samples in the summer of 2012 and the home-run motel was my only choice. Other places, like Morton, Illinois
, I just stay at the Travel Lodge because I’ve always stayed there. Like a lot of my elders who lived through the Great Depression, I can pride myself in being cheap, or telling myself something is too nice for me. Our family stayed at Super 8 AKA one-step-above-Motel 6 all the time when I was growing up, so why should I care about staying at crappy places? It’s not like I’m traveling with a woman I’m trying to impress.
Then comes the one night where I’m just so tired, my back is hurting and I just have to get a good night’s rest and crash at the Quality Inn. Those nights, I feel like the fool, even if I’m too tired to care.
Is it really that grim?