To produce this 24-hour auto-changing desktop, I took pictures on our Lexington, Kentucky cottage’s front porch over the course of a day. Though some changes, like the clouds and sky, I expected, I was more surprised to see the variation in light reflected from the white roof of the porch over the course of the day.
Summer in Kentucky is the stuff of country music songs and Hunter S. Thompson essays. This pair of images captures a Bourbon-y taste of that humid, breezy life.
Morning sun across the old wood of Mohonk’s porch matches perfectly with the coils of vapor from a hot cup of coffee. I think this photograph effectively captures the ladder-like pattern in the chair shadows and the possibilities of hiking in the hills beyond the lake.
Camp Canaras has a central lodge, a merry place of varnished wood and Scotch served neat. Late at night, long after the campers are tucked in, the place takes on a ghostly, abandoned vibe.
Inside, the minor remnants of the party still remain, along with the major remnants of large animals.
Last week’s trip to Kentucky included a trip to Woodford Reserve, home of some tasty Bourbon whiskey and this lovely porch. The view does a lot to cement my idealized view of central Kentucky hills.
During the blazing August heat, looking back to winter pictures leads to the oddest “time machine effect.” As you can see from the rapidly filling tire tracks in the driveway, we barely made it home ahead of what turned out to be a fierce storm. The comfort of “I don’t have to go out there” is so amplified when standing on a perfect porch, next to the door to a cozy house, and seeing the frozen, dark contrast in the graveyard across the way.
My grandfather’s farm in Sherborn, MA is perhaps the only unchanging place in my life. Since before I can remember, I’ve sat on this screen porch and looked out through the trees and fields. The flora and fauna of the homestead keep growing and multiplying, but it’s all kept in check.
The Longwood Cricket Club of Boston, MA no longer plays cricket. In fact, its members haven’t really played cricket for more than 100 years. What they do play is tennis, and they have acres of gorgeous grass courts on which to do so. On this particular day, as members relaxed on the front porch, the grass courts were empty. A massive storm the night before (that I also had a chance to photograph) meant that the courts were too wet. The view was perhaps all the more surreal for the juxtaposition of crowded porch and empty courts.