The End
No one writes, maintains or reads personal blogs anymore, including yours truly.
And while this blog has been going since 2005, over the decade my interest in posting has waned. First, I forced myself to write a post a month, and now it’s every couple a months. It feels like an obligation, rather than a joy. And it’s also redundant since I’m posting tons of photos on Instagram already. And since my traffic has died off, I’m basically just posting for myself. And I already can see the photos on my own computer anytime I want.
But that’s the way it goes. So from this point forward, I’m not going to feel under obligation to post new content here. I’m not quitting completely, but I’m going to reserve posting for more special occasions.
So until the next time, here are some photos and moments to finish up twenty sixteen:
J and I enjoyed a warm weather day hike at Narrows of the Harpeth River.
Montgomery Bell.
A tunnel excavated by slaves in 1820 to direct river water into Bell’s plant.
Reflection.
A rare photo.
Sunny ridge path.
Farm view.
Boat stairs.
J and I also enjoyed seeing the “spring” of Lockeland Springs and building plenty of fires.
Fairy house in Lockeland Springs.
Fairy hammock.
The old springs bottling shed.
White chocolate grinders.
Chocolate tanks.
A lot of free firewood.
G has expensive taste in beds.
Avocado toast on point!
For Thanksgiving, we hosted fourteen people in our house. It was a success.
Root vegetables ready to bake.
Meat and cheese.
J’s table settings were also on point!
The guests.
Dusk over the Cumberland.
J and I.
Which of witch? The ditch witch?
Classy.
Our own private pirate band.
In early December, in the middle of bone-chillingly cold weather, a group of friends from high school came to visit. I had torn though the old trampoline mat, so we installed a brand new replacement and got some adult jumping in.
I also purchased a full width digital piano after outgrowing my half width MIDI controllers. With its weighted keys and stark heft, it feels wonderful.
Radnor woods.
Radnor Lake.
Almost.
The gang.
Fire.
VAPE SHOP.
We are all insane in our own special ways.
Man with a plan.
Hair World Beauty.
Lewis Bros Mower Clinic.
Dash cat.
Making wreaths.
J’s mega wreath.
I made a scrap cedar shelf in our freezing cold garage.
For Christmas, we rented a house in Bishop Arts District in Dallas. J and I, plus my sister, her boyfriend, and our grandmother all stayed in the house and used it as a hub for meals and visiting. We were in a walking neighborhood, which is a rarity there.
Davis and Jefferson streets were hand painted sign heaven, and it was the first time I had explored them on foot.
Stalking were set on the floor with care.
Emergency panel.
Agencia Salinas.
DEMCO MFG.
CYK, almost M.
That’s what my underwear says.
Fog.
Lamp.
The Majestic.
Golden era.
The Mayor of Big D.
Cookie’s Labyrinth.
Sequence.
Tile street signs.
Abandoned clinic.
Price list.
Amazing signage.
Nothing better than well maintained buildings from the deco era.
Folk art skyline.
Empty corner.
Christmas dinner.
Peeled lettering.
Price burst.
Tough stuff.
Mother bowling.
View from a busy pedestrian bridge.
They don’t make signs like this any more.
Building 215.
BUDDY’S.
Temporary chaos.
The holiday lineup.
I feel at home in Nashville, despite it being boring sometimes.
I’m looking forward to 2017.