Small-town America seems even smaller in the face of an epic sunset and the thunderstorm it presaged.
Somewhere over America on my transcontinental flight, I spent a lot of time pointing my eyes out the window. (Even calling it staring would probably imply too much attention and effort.) Among the low hills and fields of the whole of North America, I saw this town poking out from amid the rural surroundings. In abusing vignetting effects, the “this is my SimCity!” vibe is transformed to some Cold-War-paranoia-inducing, spy-plane-esque, “Soviet bombers over the heartland” effect. (And in my continuing efforts to document the gradient between urban and rural, this is a new approach.)
Spring is late to the North Country, and though the snow is gone and the homes have (mostly) survived, plant life hasn’t yet surpassed the “first hints of green grass” level. There’s nonetheless a certain crunchy, dusty beauty to the sunset now—one that is nicely offset by the glossy reflections from window panes.