Photographic and poetic meanderings along the countryside or while flying an airplane.
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 . . .
Friday, October 16, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Hemmi
My Mr. Mallory's 1953 Chrysler New Yorker had a hemmi long before hemmis became cool.
Back in '53 and still smarting from WWII, car companies employed nickel rather than chrome.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Mary Stephens
Mystery Art Auction has begun at the Kemp Center for the Arts.
Mary exhibits her work there at the moment.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Out and About Around Doans
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Missy
Missy, a Mississippi Kite now living at Wild Bird Rescue, Inc., will soon educate the public on some things ornithological.
The hummingbird will feed on her own, but she will not fly, yet.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Hartley County Visit
On the way I saw many old barns like the one pictured above.
It's autumn; it's harvest time; the silos are full.
Above, an old elevator along Highway 87 in Hartley County.
The XIT Museum in downtown Dalhart holds a fascinating
exhibit of the local history and culture.
The next morning, I looked outside our motel door to see
trucks and more trucks parked.
Sunrise behind a water well.
Monday, September 28, 2009
All Green in Late September
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Remarkable Old Homes Given TLC by Their Current Owners
Along Highway 287 I saw groves of trees under which, 3m said, camels find refuge from the sun.
Joan gives us instructions once we reach the town of Electra. I like this picture because it shows Joan and the background old buildings of a town built by wealthy oil revenue in the 20s.
Janice owns an antique shop in Electra and an interesting home built decades ago by the Ginnings family, then renovated, she told us, on a shoe string, admirably.
W.T. Waggoner, Jr.'s wedding gift from his father, a home built in 1922 along Highway 25 in Electra.
The current owners graciously allowed the Heritage Society members a tour of their home.
But members were not allowed upstairs and twine was placed to enforce this rule. I thought it made a beautiful photograph.
Another resident of Electra allowed a tour of her home (since the 70s). We had wine and chocolate while we admired the old home.
Susan Attebury Smith, resident artist, Electra, Texas.
I could not resist standing still in the middle of the street in Electra long enough to take the picture below. The truck in the background had a loud diesel engine, and made its way toward me. In the photo below it doesn't look as daunting.
While I've photographed and admired the old theatre in Electra from the outside, finally I had the opportunity to step inside. The floor is new, made of concrete and to last several lifetimes; but there is still much work to do: Please donate.
The marker commemorates the theatre's historical significance.
Joan gives us instructions once we reach the town of Electra. I like this picture because it shows Joan and the background old buildings of a town built by wealthy oil revenue in the 20s.
Janice owns an antique shop in Electra and an interesting home built decades ago by the Ginnings family, then renovated, she told us, on a shoe string, admirably.
W.T. Waggoner, Jr.'s wedding gift from his father, a home built in 1922 along Highway 25 in Electra.
The current owners graciously allowed the Heritage Society members a tour of their home.
But members were not allowed upstairs and twine was placed to enforce this rule. I thought it made a beautiful photograph.
Another resident of Electra allowed a tour of her home (since the 70s). We had wine and chocolate while we admired the old home.
Susan Attebury Smith, resident artist, Electra, Texas.
I could not resist standing still in the middle of the street in Electra long enough to take the picture below. The truck in the background had a loud diesel engine, and made its way toward me. In the photo below it doesn't look as daunting.
While I've photographed and admired the old theatre in Electra from the outside, finally I had the opportunity to step inside. The floor is new, made of concrete and to last several lifetimes; but there is still much work to do: Please donate.
The marker commemorates the theatre's historical significance.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sunny Day in Electra
One of my favorite images on Hwy 368 shows a sign saying "Loose Livestock. Open Range."A quick stop to photograph an abandoned pumper's communication device; a Harley Davidson stopped next to me to make sure I was okay, then, upon seeing my thumb up, he sped away.
The theatre marquee now reads "Come See Our New Floor." Bravo!
The theatre now has an access ramp.
Electrans maintain their town: Here, a Wildcat paw print has a new coat of paint. Go Wildcats!
The theatre marquee now reads "Come See Our New Floor." Bravo!
The theatre now has an access ramp.
Electrans maintain their town: Here, a Wildcat paw print has a new coat of paint. Go Wildcats!
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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.
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.