Interstates may seem a natural part of the American landscape, but the drone’s-eye view reveals the truth of how highways were laid atop the earlier landscape. I like the convergence of the headlights along both the country road and I-64, like two different eras running to a shared future.
Equus Run Vineyard holds summer concerts, using the ample space available among the vines.
Our little cottage is across the street; after listening to the concert, we got a secondary show watching concertgoers depart.
Legend Mary Chapin Carpenter was playing, so the line continued for quite a while.
Today’s image comes from along the same trajectory as my Cantonhenge shot, but farther down the path of Route 11. In the foreground, parks, businesses, and homes cluster around the center of Canton, New York.
The opposite side of Equus Run (in both space and time) from Friday’s post finds a concert letting out and light trails along the normally empty Moores Mill Road.
Our July/August home-away-from-home in Kentucky is a farm cottage on a tiny, quiet country road… Well, quiet most nights. On this particular evening, a concert had just let out at the vineyard across the road and a sudden blast of vehicles added some passers-by to our neighborhood.
The lines and lights of the dock, boat, and horizon collide in this image of a catamaran in Traverse City.
Dana Dining Hall looks warm and inviting on a cold winter night; I think the car passing quickly by (rather than standing still in the cold, like me) had the right idea.
Every driver told us that this was the “off season” and that winter was when the infrastructure of Prague was repaired before the next summer. I can’t imagine the traffic in May…
The charming anachronisms of Berkeley’s Normandy Village look particularly distinct on a rainy winter night. The odd experience of living there is already wandering into the nostalgic parts of my memories.
The lights of Alcatraz matched the color of the sunset for just a moment.