The midwest is a flat region, but the true two-dimensionality doesn’t hit you until you until you see the region from above. The tallest things for miles around will be water towers. Each town’s tower marks it, like a piece on the world’s most beige chessboard. Still, they have a certain beauty in the evening.
One of my earliest posts displayed the surreal beauty of Christmastime in the frigid suburbs of Chicago; given that much of the country is experiencing the balmy joy of summer, I thought a wee reminder of chillier times might be appropriate. (This photograph also continues what has apparently become a series, “Trees Next to Buildings.”)
Christmas in the Hill household used to mean a big roast. This year, though, the allure of a perfectly-marbled ribeye overcame us, and we fired up the grill on a 20-degree Chicago evening. The flying sparks from the drippings were really captured in the HDR shot. There’s always something particularly strange and foreign in the quickly-varying flames when different brackets are composited together.
Though the suburbs can be an ugly place, at times, there’s no time when they become more attractive than the Holiday season. I was particularly fascinated by the way the individual red, blue, green, and yellow lights in the front porch of this house blended together to dye the whole scene violet. It speaks to the spectroscopic subtleties of Christmas lights that a similar display in the adjacent house produces very different results.