There are some places I photograph time and again. This is one of them. The light is especially nice in the morning and I think it’s just a pretty spot.
The thing is, I tend to view the world best through a camera lens or, in this case, the iPhone frame. It’s easier for me to focus on details, to ignore what’s not relevant, and to see things for what they really are. . . or perhaps for what I wish them to be.
My search for meaning sometimes comes in words but more often, in my own pictures. To see the same place over time, in changing light and in varying weather conditions is a gift.
I hope you have places you revisit time and again. Whether you are revisiting to find your own meaning or to reveal the truth of that place, I hope you find what you seek.
County fair season is upon us and folks in rural communities take that event seriously. Many people in my region grew up in 4-H. They paid for school clothes with livestock sale proceeds and learned so many life skills that they still use today.
I was never in 4-H but think the program is amazing. That’s why I was excited to see this fair themed mural in downtown Washington Court House, Ohio Saturday.
Isn’t it wonderful?
The artist is Eric Henn whose work can be viewed here.
I stopped for a picture here because I just liked the scene. The viaduct and the Chug-A-Lug Pub sign make a shabby but eclectic combination. Truth is, Cambridge City, Indiana isn’t a city at all. Their population peaked at around 2,500 in 1970. Today, about 1,750 people call this quaint town home.
Located along the historic National Road, I have antiqued here before. When I was there in April, it was just to drive through – although I did meander off the beaten path for a few minutes.
There are several nice murals that tell the story of the town’s history.
I live in Vinton County so I always look for this place along the National Road.
Worshipers were beginning to arrive for services at the Methodist Church when I was passing through.
The place is just quaint and lovely and clearly a source of pride for its residents. It seems like a nice place to live and it’s proximity to Richmond and Indianapolis are a plus to me. Residents can access the culture, healthcare, jobs and other amenities of the cities while maintaining their small town lifestyle.
It’s one of several cute small towns along the National Road in Indiana. If you’re a road tripper, I recommend following this route to get a taste of the kind of Americana you’ll only find in small rural communities. It’s a special experience so hit the road, brake for pictures, stop for diner pie and, as always, enjoy the journey.
When you think about James Dean, you probably think about the troubled persona, the race car driving risk taker who still epitomizes cool.
You probably don’t think about him out in nature, working on a farm, playing with animals. In fact, you probably don’t think about him as a kid at all.
He arrived by train at the age of nine, sent by his dad to stay with relatives after his mom died of cancer. Those relatives were Ortense and Marcus Winslow, an aunt and uncle who are said to have sores on their nephew. They raised Jimmy alongside their young son Marcus in a Quaker household.
Here, he tried his hand at sports including baseball and basketball. If you go to the town museum, you’ll find his basketball uniform and team picture. He also became involved in the school’s drama program and studied public speaking. He had a stable family life that seemed reasonably happy.
This is the place he called home.
If he had lived, Jimmy would be 92 years old. That makes his little cousin Marcus an elderly man now. Marcus still lives on the family farm and the local museum says he has kept the farm looking as it did firing his own childhood.
He understands the legacy of his famous cousin and the importance Jimmy will always have to the town. In addition to maintaining the farm, he has donated many of Jimmy’s possessions to the local museum.
Marcus invites visitors to stop and take pictures and to look around a bit as long as they don’t approach the house.
There’s a shed in my yard that my dad built years ago. It looks like a small barn with a built-in workbench and a couple of corner shelves. There’s also a whole lot of junk piled up everywhere you look. Seriously, the door barely opens.
I spent some time in there last night pulling stuff out and shaking my head at the amount of junk that has accumulated. Mind you, I enjoy salvaging old stuff but there’s very little in there that merits salvaging. Rusted old curtain rods, disposable plastic flower pots, broken tools, partial bags of potting soil, pieces of siding and all manner of crap have the place bursting at the seams.
I made a very small dent and have a decent pile of stuff to go to the trash. So far, there’s not much to recycle. As I was pulling out things, I couldn’t help but notice that everything represented a choice over time. That choice was simple: “Do I throw it away now or do I throw it away later?”
And so I chose to throw it away later …. which is now.
Truth be told, I come from a long line of packrats. My dad may be their King but I suspect the generations before him were no slobs in this department.
At the risk of sounding like an enabler, I understand why we are the way we are.
I come from rural America. Southern Ohio is very Appalachian. We tend to have fewer resources here. The jobs don’t pay so well which means that we can’t always afford to buy something new or even hire a repairman when something breaks.
We were DIY’ers before influencers on YouTube told us it was cool.
Things have changed over time. Online shopping makes it so much easier to have a new appliance or lawn mower part delivered. Although, it wasn’t that long ago that you had to walk into the local hardware and have them look up your part in a paper catalog and then order it for you via a landline telephone.
We still drive thirty miles one way to buy a fridge, a pair of shoes or anything else you can’t buy at Dollar General, a small grocer, pharmacy or hardware. That is, we did until credit cards and online shopping made it so we don’t even have to leave home for these purchases.
Still, that all requires money that many people around here don’t have.
So we still tend to hold onto things. If your mower breaks and you buy new, you keep the old because you or a neighbor could salvage parts from it. Dad’s garage is like some kind of magic genie bottle. I once bought an antique radio that was missing a knob. He dug around a bit and found exactly what it lacked. This was a particular victory for him and one we won’t soon forget.
I’m not as bad as he is but I do struggle with letting go of things that might be repurposed. This is evidenced in my craft room where scrapbook supplies, bits of ribbon, stray buttons and scraps of fabric mix in with home decor items that occasionally get reimagined.
Social media is full of minimalists who tell us to keep our surfaces clear of clutter and to not stash away in a closet or drawer something that really should be tossed in the trash. They say you need just one plate, bowl, fork and cup for each person in your house and that your cupboards shouldn’t be full of extra food and stuff you don’t need this week. They tells us we will be lighter, happier and better off if we aren’t weighed down by stuff we don’t need.
This concept is tempting and so lovely but so foreign as well. I can’t help thinking that many of these people have never known true need. They’ve never been snowed into a country home where there’s no food delivery service and where the nearest grocery is several slippery miles away.
They don’t know what it’s like to break the heel on a pair of dress shoes and have to wait for replacements until you drive to town or until Amazon can ship you a new pair. The old scuffed up heels that are languishing in the back of the closet will come in handy for work until new can be acquired.
In my case, the building looks more like a hoarder’s paradise than anything useful and it is appalling. My dad at least keeps things that could be useful someday.
Once I finish cleaning out the building, Dad and I are scheming to repurpose it into a potting shed with no longterm storage. Meanwhile, there is still a lot to be done and I fear losing steam to do it before the bees, snakes, spiders and other country critters lay claim to it as the weather warms up.
While he hasn’t said so to my face, I suspect my dad is laughing and wondering who’s the packrat now.
