Oregon’s Highway 97 is one of the more banal, yet beautiful routes to adventure on if you give it your attention and some extra time. A slow, meandering highway through Eastern Oregon, there are so many beautiful moments like this early wheat crop. It’s what inspired the original Windows XP desktop.
One of the loneliest piles of garbage I’ve ever seen… I had to get a photo once I noticed the hawk in the background.
I still haven’t figured out what this is… combine part? Old buggy suspension? Any ideas?
This Summer’s Visit to the Family Farm was great- I haven’t been back home in (way too) many years. A family of artists like ours is rich in love, but poor in Airline miles. I shot much more than these, but I’m wanting to work on them a little further. This batch of images is a good, general representation of my experience back in North Carolina. It was actually decent weather, in that it was ‘cold’ for September. Ha! Beautiful area- I really wish I could’ve stayed longer.
Not entirely sure what the story is, here. It looks like someone built a building next to a wash, ravine, or small canyon. Weather did what it all too often does so well, and caught them by surprise one day. As you can see, the back of the building has fallen into the ravine.
Near the old Shoe-Tree sat this imposing old building. We didn’t go much closer to it than this.
What a great moment:
This lonely old horse was just hanging out in front of the the old cabin, and was really more interested in smelling my camera more than anything. Pretty thin and looking fairly bored, it certainly enjoyed the modest company that we afforded it- but a horse sniffing the lens just isn’t as interesting as it could be…
Then Jayda stood nearby and offered the hungry thing a carrot. Here’s that moment.
This old house has seen some better days.
The front door is riddled with shotgun blasts and the front porch (or is that the roof of the front porch?) has completely collapsed.
Like memories in bloom, the overgrown flowers keep singing their old yellow tune.
Something about thewear and tear of sun, wind, and time on wood…
I think these boards were cut from Pine, but I really don’t know Oak from Madrone.
Out here in the Eastern Oregon high desert, the wind-born sand and dust really tears up the softer parts of the cut boards. I dig the contrast.
I can’t tell if this had a porch or a covered porch exactly, but walking up to it revealed a lot of boards laying about the front. The door had been kicked in and shot numerous times with a shotgun. Whatever happened here, I bet it made for a great plot twist…