A windmill along Woodland Trail in Council Bluffs. Know anything about those old farm implements on the right, along the fence? To me, they look like they might be old tractor seats, but what would a city boy know?
This one is dedicated to my good friends Rob and Maggie Schlautman, who tied the knot last Friday. I took this photo with Rob last month just east of Council Bluffs while waiting for the no-show Northern Lights. The only light was from the rising moon and the glow of the building midnight fog.
This photo was taken a few mornings ago at the Vorthmann farm, near Treynor. They have been kind enough to let me wander around on their farm for sunrise photographs. This scene embodies so much of the western Iowa I’ve come to love. Enormous sky meets enormous farmland, hinged gracefully by a Loess hill on the horizon, the top of which would undoubtedly offer another grand vista to the east, and so on and so on.
I’ve encountered some very generous people lately who have let me sneak on to their land here and there for a few photos. If you’re one of them, thanks so much.
I found this scene in the predawn glow a few morning ago on my way out to Avoca to deliver some prints--one of those peaceful scenes that I love to stumble upon before the rest of the world has awoken.
For the next few days, I’ll be posting some of the rural photographs from our Toadstool trip—scenes that are very typical of the Nebraska Sandhills, of the abandoned and forgotten, the quirky Americana, and the landscape itself, which often contains some relic of a homestead or machinery from many generations past and that has been chipped away by the elements and reclaimed by the prairie brush and sand. Ancient gravel roads lead to nowhere, weeds thrive inside ramshackle homes, and rusty windmills resist the prairie gales with stubborn resolve. Ghosts are everywhere and manifest in all forms.