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 . . .

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Heat

Cattle Egret. One of thousands and thousands.
While the swather swept across the wheat grass, something must have caused a spark, perhaps a metal part of it striking a stone, to cause a fire. Fire trucks from Holliday drove through fencing to contain the fire. In the photograph, cow patties smolder in the ashes.
Old electrical poles lean all along North Central Texas grasslands.
Beautiful and intriguing seed pods on the shore of Lake Kickapoo.
Herefords, standing belly-deep in water, glimpse at me through mesquite plants.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Emil's Pat Carrigan

Below I show a photograph I took today of a painting stored carefully in the vault of the Museum of North Texas History. Flakes of paint have fallen off the canvas throughout the years. The staff of the Museum found the painting in such a bad condition and in need of restoration but due to cost, they may only store it as carefully as possible to halt the deterioration.
After post processing the image in the digital darkroom, the photograph below shows the portrait as it may have looked back in the [30s] when Carrigan's mother commissioned Hermann to paint a portrait of her son killed during WWI. Though the process of removing blemishes from this picture seemed a bit tedious and constrained by the lack of skill, I pursued my task just to take a look at the difference between the two versions. I can travel back in time in my imagination and look upon the painting as Hermann painted it, and look upon the un-blemished face of a young man struck down in that unspeakable war. (Or does "unspeakable war" sound redundant?) Dallas will remove the larger blemishes to make it look as if Hermann himself, with his own paintbrush, had restored the painting.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Flying the Jenny

Every first Saturday of the month, the Museum of North Texas History hosts a unique event: They gather at Kickapoo Airport in Wichita Falls to fly the WWI Curtiss "Jenny," flown by aviator Tom Danaher.

It was another windy day at the airport.


The WWI fire truck makes its way from the museum
through the old hangars toward the Jenny's grassy airstrip.

A volunteer assists in pushing the Jenny to the grassy airstrip.

Tom Danaher prepares for flight.

Danaher and the Jenny buzzed the crowd.

Approaching into the wind for a landing.

Tom Danaher
While I count myself fortunate to witness this unique event, and feel thrilled and teary-eyed every time I see the Jenny aloft under the experienced control of Tom, if you ask me, I'll answer that they both belong and should remain within the safety of the walls of the museum. Tom, as a mortal, will not be with us forever, as an inanimate object would, and that is one thing I'd like God to change.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

In Oklahoma. El Reno Mustang Field

Images I took while waiting for Mr. Graves to change the oil in My Mr. Mallory's plane.
A Meadowlark on a taxiway marker.
A Horned Lark along the taxiway.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Walking Around Out Back

Cattle Egret in flight.
Purple Martins; male on left.A Texas Scissortail flies above and between a Red-tailed Hawk's wings.
Scissortail.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

In the Field

Oilfield operation in North Central Texas.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Gnome's Resident Owl

The Great Horned Owl in the tree next to the cabin has become accustomed to our presence. She remained in the tree above us, while we sat in folding chairs in the shadows. I walked behind the cabin, found her, then raised my lens for a photograph. 

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Of Antelopes and Flowers in the Texan Panhandle





Lightning!

During the early morning hours, lightning struck the oil tank batteries above.
The Hoover Hellfighters Volunteer Fire Department drove miles into the grasslands to reach the burning battery.



After allowing most of the oil to burn, the firefighters spread foam around and into one of tanks.
It is important to allow the oil to burn, rather than allow it to run into the grasslands. 



A firefighter watches from the distance, sitting among the yucca plants, native grasses and flowers of the Texan Panhandle.
Rolling the hose for storage before returning to Hoover.
Approximately one hundred and seventy-five barrels of oil burned or spilled into the draw.
The containing ditch, dug too late, contained a little amount of oil, and some of the firefighters foam.
Later, after the firefighters contained the fire and then left for home to rest, I walked around the destroyed battery, aware of my surroundings, consisting of the Texan grasslands and flowers, with the battery as an incongruent sight.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Monday, June 1, 2009

Attacked Hawk

A Red-tailed Hawk lands on the branch of a tree . . . 

Above, a Western Kingbird bounces off 
the hawk's shoulders after its attack.

A mockingbird bumps against the back of the hawk.
A Purple Martin flies by the attack by the mockingbird on the hawk. 
Eventually, the attacking birds flew away.

Remembering the Past to Embellish the Present

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.