Petite wet-snow blizzard Friday afternoon. It was like shooting in the rain.
I’ve driven over this little overpass a few zillion times in my life, but it never occurred to me to stop until I caught a glimpse of it in the storm on Friday.
Just when we think our lives are settled and predictable, circumstances can change abruptly, rocketing our complacent selves into a whole new narrative. That doesn’t mean bad things are happening in Wabi Sabi land, but an unexpected turn of events has switched us all onto a wildly different track. I put aside my camera for a while, something I haven’t done in years, but I’m thinking it’s maybe safe to quietly exhale now. Even new narratives should yield a little creative space.
Hmmm…maybe I should buy a new lens. Major metaphoric statement, yes?
…if our lives came equipped with such easy-to-read markers.
Buoys are marking the entrance to Lake Pepin, a really wide spot on the Mississippi River.
Not enough haze to be fog, but enough to lay a filter over my early morning outing.
I’ll admit that I was looking for architectural grandeur with this bridge, the cathedral-like quality to be found looking dead-center through the piers. Instead, I was most taken by the qualities of the concrete, with its subtle cracking and vague hieroglyphic markings.
And, about the aforementioned barges that work the Mississippi twenty-four/seven: when you are anchored on a sandbar for the night, the sight of one of these massive vessels sliding by is all kinds of other-worldly. They are remarkably quiet and you can only stand on the deck of your little craft, mouth slightly a-gape and contemplate their lights slicing through the silence of the velvet-black night. Three shots of a passing barge in the slideshow below
Taken from the deck of a houseboat as we moved slowly up and down the Mississippi River in mid-September. Click on any thumbnail for a full-sized gallery slideshow.
A partial and less intimate view of said bridge whose function it is to connect the great states of Wisconsin and Minnesota.
My function on this grand adventure was to stand in the front of the boat and, if I spotted a barge coming towards us in the distance, begin to chant like the Rainman “We’re all gonna die! We’re all gonna die!”
Feral barge attempting to sneak up on our vessel:
I think I did a splendid job of keeping us all alive.
This isn’t a barge, of course, but I sounded the alarm loud and clear, alerting ship, captain and crew to the danger here as well:
Wabi Sabi: Your Canary in the Coal Mine of Nautical Doom.
The abandoned farm around the corner. There’s a tear-down in progress, though I’ve never seen anyone working at the site.
I think these last two ladder shots have a little Wyeth vibe going for them.
Because nothing says “Happy Holidays!” like a gallery of vintage hubcaps!