"rusty pipe, with snow"

I seem to be drawn to this piece of rusty pipe. I have photographed it dozens of times in various seasons, weather conditions, and times of day. I cannot rightly explain why I stop and stare each time I see it.

I often walk the dirt road where I live. Surrounded by working farms, I eschew portraits of cows and horses (usually) for capturing weeds and trees. And aged wood and rust. I am drawn inexorably to old things. But why this pipe?

It is placed crookedly on the edge of a slope in a small turnaround. The area around it has become increasingly overgrown and wild. Part of it still shows the original galvanized steel beneath the rust. The glorious rust.

A pipe weighted from the inside with stone, so as not to roll away. A rusty pipe carrying no water or fuel but acting as a barrier. Useful beyond its original purpose.

I like to think I am still useful though I am beginning to show signs of wear. So perhaps this pipe is a symbol of the midlife crisis I seem to be about (ahem, sorry for all the angsty poetry lately). Certainly there has to be more than a tired cliche in my interest.

I hope the township leaves the pipe until it completely rots away. I want to see spring blooms against the flaking rust and summer grasses brushing the tired steel. I have more portraits to make.



And some betta photos. None of Cirrus tonight, he couldn’t sit still.

I’m having some algae issues, which apparently makes my camera unable to focus. So have some ugly pics.

Also, see what Seath did to his tail? I can’t blame him, his tail made it impossible for him to swim, but he could at least let it heal a bit before ripping off more of it.