This used to be the view
a farmer and wife
and children
could see
at noon
of their
proud barn,
except the glass
could not have remained
broken for long.

Everywhere fewer farmers
and old buildings.
Progress ?

                                                           
I stopped
to take a few
photos
and the owner
arrived
as I came
back to the truck
with frozen fingers.

He wanted to
sell the barn

for wood.

                                                           
Enroute to the Mountains
(ok, it's really just hills
and trees, but it's what
we've got here)
we stopped to shoot
this barn
among other old
buildings.

Big Prairie.

                                               
On the way to
the club's photo shoot
location
I passed this
old house and windmill
four times
without stopping.
The fifth
I stopped,
everybody piled out
and we shot
away.

The look
up river
is something
when the clouds
align themselves
as lonely puffs
in midstream.

                                                           
While it was a mere
minus 30 C
this afternoon
I found a perfect
place for a chat,
a short chat.

Chat away
while I go
warm up
a bit.

And warm up
the camera battery, too.

                                                    
Sometimes
doorways
lead
to more
dead ends,

like the
economy
run by
greed.

                                                           
Driving home
after work
at minus 30

the power plant
output
is
visible overhead

even when shot at
3200 ISO for noise.

Otherwise the scene
was
quiet ... and cold.

                                                           
This grain pile
is concealed
by the old house
and
bush,
the lone vegetation
higher than
one's ankles
on a cool
December day.

Always wondered how
these piles
stayed put
through the winter?
with wildlife eating at them?

Simple grass                          
stands out,
by the reservoir.

                                                           
Simple
wake up
shot
of
home
at
sunrise.

Great to live here!

                                                           
It's just there
being blown
white with
ice fog
from the reservoir.

There's not much
Fall left,
colour or otherwise,

but today
this went by one way,
and I stopped
to catch it
on the return trip.

Like those Birch!

At 5 am, after
a night rainstorm,
the leaves
still give
witness
to the dark
and wet past.

These trees grow next to
the healing waters
of Manitou.
While everyone rushes off
to dinner and
then a workshop,

I
catch
this site
of water, light
and life.

Ahh .... yeeeess!

                                                           
It's just
a sundog

at minus 30.

Hay,
what else
do you expect
on the cold
December
prairies.

This cold,
and it's only December?

After a long day
studying inside
with windy
fresh air only
while doing chores,

I entered the clear
evening air
for
a breather

under the moon.

The cloudy morning
hangs grey
on eyes
waiting
for hands to
pitch hay.

It'll be warm
for November
with time to
work outside
a few more hours
before snow and cold
hit hard.

Water laps                   
the west shoreline
of the Reservoir       
Simple and plainly
neat.

The early air
is crisp and clear
making one breathe
in reality on
a simple and profound
level.

Golden rays
brighten leaves
and one's spirit.

Against the coyote's howls
the dead tree
stands watch
over a deep
silvery
moon

lighting the way
to cloud nine

and a half.

                                                           
On a short walk
this morning
in the light snow
and peace

this simple
image
stole away
in my camera

to reappear
here, for you.

Prairie
Life       

has departed these walls
and left no
evidence of home,

other than the coloured
sheets in the window
and the long since
varnished
door.

It's just outside                   
our door       
looking east
on a pretty
good morning.

Had a good morning
lately?

Have many more
soon!

                                                           
Now I've stared
into space at times
but I ain't
never left
my chair
bottomless
to reflect on
all that's
gone before,
and lost since.

But here the door's
wide open to
reflecting.

Remembrance Day
morning
I
woke
to chores, but ...
I stopped midway
and caught this

sunrise foreboding.

With thanks
that our sun rises
without
the expectation of war,
here.

The sun
trips across
the waves,
without a care
unlike those
charged with power.

November Sunrise                   
is not so early       
so we put together
a morning club shoot,
and this was
one result!

5:30 am after
a night of rainstorms
the fog rose
from the river
to set the mood
for the sunrise.

                                       
Waiting
for supper
we met this
shadowy
character
at the
Friendship
Centre.

Then he melted away
never to be seen
again.

Scouting the W side
of Boundary Dam
Reservoir
for the upcoming
club shoot

this shoreline
jumped at me,
pulled me in,
and found
the shutter release.

Refreshingly cool
late Fall water.

Just had to shoot
something
today

and the slide
is symbolic
of lots
going
on.

Playtime!

On the return
from an errand
I stopped
in the warm
breeze
(warm for Nov)

by this flat lake
to catch the sun's
reflection
hot.

                                                           
In the deep freeze
three trees
are still
cold
even if
they huddle
together
when piled with
snow.

But at the root
they are
about 10 degrees C.

                                                           
Local pasttime:
waiting for trains.

With only one
not grade level
crossing,
and that's on the
way out of town,
there's lots
of opportunity
to wait
and shoot the breeze.

Whoooooooosh!

On the way home
in the snow      
these trees cried out to
be shot

with a camera,
blown up

in software,
and sprayed all over

a good piece of paper.

                                                           
It's been a long
while
since someone
sat
and pondered

looking out
this
window
...
until now.

Here's looking at you.

Cemeteries
are quiet
ly reminding us
that there is a light at
the end of our tunnel.

Enjoy the tunnel!
It's beautiful.

From the cemetary
at sunset
the elevator blocks the sun
not from the sky

but from our eye.
Breath it in.

And spit out the mosquitoes.

                                                           
This old junk pile
sits in a low spot
at the end of our
new parking area.

It used to be out
in the animals' area
far from the (old) house.

And the only good reason
I have not cleaned it up
is it makes a good spot
to shoot when I can't
get out anywhere else.

On my way to buy
gloves
I stopped in the
cold
biting
wet
wind

and froze my fingers
getting shots
of the wild
blowing past me.

The reservoir
is heated water
from the coal plant,
the wind is local
and persistent,
and the cold
is seasonal.