The season of gold has begun in the southern Rocky Mountains. Snakeweed, sunflowers and other assorted members of the Asteraceae (sunflower) family dot the earth and fill the borrow ditches along highways. Even in our land of little rain, it is always astonishing to see how big sunflowers become, courtesy of highway runoff. In the University of Wyoming field guide Weeds of the West, the common sunflower is described as an annual, growing from one to ten feet tall. I have seen some that are at least six feet tall. Pretty decent for a short growing season and fairly dry conditions. And there is nothing like that New Mexico gold against a brilliant summer sky.
The light and shadow on the interior of these sunflowers seems almost edible to me.
I will be keeping my eyes peeled along the highways.
In southern Colorado and northern New Mexico, where the Rocky Mountains give way to the plains, there is an incredible openness to the land. The human eye is unable to absorb all the detail. It gives new meaning to "the long view".
Before refrigeration and warehousing became standard for storage of perishables, farmers dug areas into the ground, or built up mounds for storing grain, potatoes, and other crops for the winter. We have to assume that these wooden structures were above the mounds to vent any gasses and moisture building up within the earthen burrow.
Who knows? This sort of thing may become the "new" trend.
There are a number of amazing ideas and creations that seem to have been generated spontaneously throughout history. Flatbread comes to mind. From pita to tortillas, it is simple, wonderful, and highly transportable. Fermented liquids such as beer and wine are quite old, and the formulas for these were probably"brewing" at the same time in different places. Architectural elements including arches and towers seem to fall into this category. Most things are born of necessity. Some spread with religion. The question of whether creations are spontaneously generated, or whether migration and human contact promoted their development may never be answered. But it does not diminish the fascinating similarities found around the globe.
Doors and hardware. The first photograph of a door in Costilla Plaza, New Mexico...
...and a door from the island of Crete.
A shrine outside the Catholic church in San Francisco, New Mexico, roughly the size of a playhouse...
...and a roadside shrine or iconostasis on Crete, about the size of a large mailbox, similar to a descanso marking the death of someone along a highway in New Mexico.
You were right, Andrea, when you said "I bet I know what Daryl's blog will be this week". She, my husband, Fred, and other fellow tango dancers had just finished two classes and a practice session at Taos Tango, when the Taos fireworks display began less than a mile away from the studio. We had front row seats!
I don't always take my camera with me, but because of the recent thunderstorms, I decided to take it just in case a weather or other phenomenon presented itself. Because my photographic expertise does not include night time photography, I was not even thinking about photographing fireworks. But about ten minutes into the show, it occurred to me that I had my camera and might be able to get some decent shots. Using my forehead as a stabilizer, I held the shutter open for 2 to 15 seconds and hoped for the best. What the lens and processor captured blew me away.
Zooming in reveals particles of light combined together to make rope, loosely woven cloth, palm trees, jellyfish and other assorted fauna and flora.
Please forgive the overload, but it was too much fun not to share! I hope you can click on each image and view a larger version.
The "normal" state of mind typically means that a person does not hear voices. But in any town, in any state or country, there are places that speak of the past more than the present.
Fellow photographer Steve Immel and I meandered through some of the smaller towns and villages of northern New Mexico and southern Colorado on Friday. The town of San Luis, Colorado is filled to the brim with stories, memories, and voices. That is where the photographer and the human imagination go to work.
Below is the window of a once vital store, which served one of the world's most famous soft drinks. My guess is that the reflection is a historic building with additions of solar architectural vernacular from the 1970s.
This setting screams mid-20th century American dining. All the items were on sale at an indoor garage sale on the main street in San Luis.
An example of a photograph speaking volumes.
Sometimes, photographs shout. Other times they speak softly.