Behind the little house in the canyon, a lone tree stands against the backdrop of a blue-grey sky, mid-trunk deep in a sea of prairie weeds. The grayed and brittle lichen-covered tree has a sort of quiet desperation about it; like the abandoned homestead, the tree is a victim of the elements that once nourished it. Just as the home, the tree still stands…it’s jagged and broken branches still reaching for the sky, in a futile (yet beautiful) plea for rain.
Spotted on a portion of fence that was still standing in the overgrown front yard of the little house in the canyon; a bright swipe of chartreuse-colored lichen, which stood out in lovely contrast against the aged and bone-dry fence posts.
This is one of the more vivid scenes of industrial leftovers I came across in the Eastern Oregon desert. The years of sun and wind have seriously taken a toll on this old thresher or other piece of farm equipment. But at the same time, it’s pretty amazing looking, too.
Talking a walk across the Burnside bridge the other day, I noticed the great color and texture of the stairs that lead down to the water. Hip shot!
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