Falling Down: Rural America

It rained the entire 1 & 1/2 hour drive that took me to Weston, Ohio to photograph a little autistic girl in a horse show yesterday.  Instead of being able to photograph outside we were stuck inside under florescent lights, a photographers nightmare.

I was there to photograph the horse show last year at this time and I saw an old house that was vacant and crumbling down. The empty house must have been loved at one point. I was enamored with the fish scale tiles that were painted green but now were faded or nearly bare wood. There was signs of people having lived there in the not so distant past. A BBQ grill was placed by the front door with a mound of other things.  I wanted to take pictures of it then but I couldn't find it. So, this time, I made a mental note of the location so that I could photograph it when I headed back home.  But when I left it was pouring so hard that I couldn't safely leave the car without getting soaked. 

So, I parked the car and aimed the lens at the house as best I could without much rain getting inside. Well, I did get a lot of rain inside but you would never guess that it was raining from looking at the pictures. I tried a process on Photoshop called HDR toning. I moved the levels around until I found the look that I wanted.  I added a memories grunge to it that I found on line et voila this is the result.  I rather like it.  A friend of mine said it looks surreal.  I don't know about that, but I really am drawn to old crumbling down buildings. 

 

Train, tractors, and enjoying nature

I like rust. Isn't that an odd thing to say? I am attracted to old things from yesteryear, except old men. I do have my limits. 

The other day I was driving out into the country for a photo shoot.  It is mid July and the height of the summer season. Everything is blooming and we are surrounded by green. I love it!  It is amazing how peaceful it is away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Where quiet can be achieved without ear plugs. 

As I was driving along I would try to look at everything that came across my path to see if maybe I would like to try and find it again on my return trip home. Then I spotted a train, but not only a train a tractor was there too. 

The train and tractor were just off the highway. I turned into the small drive and parked the car.  Everything seemed to be strategically placed, but with the look of abandonment.   

The train car was packed with things but I didn't dare go up and try to look inside.  Who knows who or what would be lurking behind the windows. 

I stood there for a while and just looked at the train and tried to imagine the life it had. Where had it been and what were the people like who inhabited it while going on a journey.  I had only been on a train twice in my life so far. 

The first train ride was in Chattanooga, Tennessee when I lived there.  The train took the riders on a small tour of the city. I sat in the "colored" car, which was very nice, but it may not have been when those words were painted just above the seat. The wheels squeaked and the cars jerked as we rolled along the track.  The second ride was in Morocco.  We traveled to Tangier, my favorite city in the country. The train was packed with people and we were given sweet treats to eat by a fellow passenger.  Oh the journey's we take and the memories we have of them. 

Home Sweet Home

I imagine it was at one time, home sweet home.  This log cabin is located in Hamilton, Indiana on a country road somewhere. There was an addition to the house in the 1800's according to the style of the structure. Can you imagine living there? I am such a city girl that I cannot fathom living way out in the "sticks".

When I was little, my parents took us to the ridges in Tennessee to see Uncle Horace and Aunt Dude. They lived in a log cabin. I remember sleeping there and the lulling sound of the rain pinging on the tin roof during the night. Those were sweet times. Waking up to bacon,eggs, biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Drinking spring water from a pail with a dipper was normal.The smell of the fresh chopped wood pile that lay on the ground next to the porch still lingers in my memory.  

As a friend and I drove around the countryside a couple of weeks ago, I was a little saddened at the shape of the barns. A part of history is falling down around us and we are not paying attention. The barn is a symbol of life and hard work.  Where people actually raised the food that they ate. Many were not rich but had enough to be satisfied.  As time passes, things change, and so do our ways. We build bigger and better structures with farm equipment that can do the work of 20 men. But somehow it is comforting to pass an Amish man still plowing his field with the strength of a mule. 

Rural Indiana

A friend and I went on a four hour tour of Dekalb County, Indiana last Sunday. My friend was donned in jeans, cowboy boots,and a baseball hat. Then we climbed into his old pickup truck for a ride. The truck didn't have any air conditioning and it had winged windows, in order to open them you had to push a button and slide the metal handle up for additional air flow. We drove up and down roads I had never been on before. Then we came upon this scene and I was taken aback. I hadn't been on a dirt road in years. The rusted tin roof of the barn caught my eye and the curve of the road added charm to this nostalgic view. This is how country looks and feels. "Stop the truck!", I shouted. I couldn't miss this opportunity to capture a beautiful shot. 

A new lens, ice skating, and horses

A few weeks ago, I invested in a new lens.  It was quite expensive, actually cost twice as much as my camera, but purchased it for half the amount of retail and it was still more expensive than my camera.  It is an "L" series, which is more along the professional line for Canon. I went to the ice skating rink and played around with the settings on the camera.  

I captured some lovely pictures such as the one above that I called Concentration or the one below of a man with lovely blue eyes.  

Then there is the beauty with her hair in a bun wondering why I was taking a picture of her. (below)

But today I went to the country to do a little shopping and on the way back home I stopped at an Amish farm and took pictures of the horses.

The beauty of a horse is hard to surpass.  All of my life I have admired these beautiful creatures.

Their strength is daunting to a weakling like me. 

Then there is the kiss that made me laugh.  The horses stood there cuddling for a long time.  

To me it is capturing these special moments that makes life seem tender and sweet. I think this lens is a keeper because I didn't have to work so hard to get lovely pictures. 

Old Shed

I like old buildings, especially barns.  There is something about them that make me think of my birthplace, Tennessee.  As a child, my parents would take us to see my Great Uncle Horace Smith who lived in an old log cabin with his wife Aunt Dude. I have no idea why she was called Dude. They lived in the ridges, way back in the country. The roads were not paved and I remember how hard it was for my father to drive there. He had to keep the tires in the grooves on the dirt road. Primitive is how you would describe the cabin. No plumbing, no electricity or running water was in the house.  The root cellar was buried in the back and a tin roof was seen just above the ground.  My brother and I used to run up and down the roof until the tin was too hot for bare feet to touch. Beside the large porch lay wood chips that gave off an earthy smell. We drank spring water from a pail using a metal dipper. Everyone used it and no one seemed to have died from germs.  So, when I look at the above picture, I think about the good times, even if it is Indiana and not Tennessee that I see in the picture.