Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Everyone Needs a Lock

       On a gate in Archer county . . . . Now for which lock do I hold the key?

       In the north Texas countryside, one often comes upon gates locked by several locks, each one belonging to a different entity. 

       There are several persons who need keys to enter the property, which may consist of a private home with several acres, or a farm, a ranch, or, just . . . open prairie owned by someone, anyone else, upon which pumps extract oil, or cows graze contentedly, or wind turbines loom, or wheat sways in the wind: 

     The pumper who works for the oil company needs a key; the trucker to transport the oil, too; the bulldozer guy who maintains the roads; the nephew of the brother of the husband of the cousin who will clean up the abandoned batteries and other oil field equipment; the foreman who works for the rancher needs a key, too; the owner would need a key for when he goes in to check on what on Earth everyone else is doing on his property; the energy company guys who maintain the power lines or the wind turbines need a key . . . the farmer and his combines and swathers . . . the crop-duster who . . . oh, wait, I take that back; crop-dusters do not need any keys.

     Have I listed everyone? Oh, the poachers. They scam a key from someone or barge through. They don't care about locks. 
       
     I've concluded that one does not really "own" land at all, unless everything underneath and above the land comes with that ownership. Minerals and now air space have become rare for a landowner to control. Instead, someone's "ownership" of a land consists of the dirt on the surface and merely gives him the right to gripe about the pumpers, the oilmen, the cowboys, and the energy companies that stomp across the prairie, some gripes of which lead to lawsuits. 

     To me, it is sad to see all the steel scattered across a land that once grew healthy; still, we have what we have now, and we do with it what we can, namely, save it. Renovate the land. Help it heal.

     As for locks, really, what function do they have? 

     

D4, f3.5, 1/2,500s, 190mm, cropped for effect during post processing in the digital darkroom.

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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.