timelines

This is in a place my family used to drive by at least weekly for many years. It was on the way to the church we used to meet at in a no name town in rural Oregon. Other delights of this journey included crossing a sizable river on the world's most dangerous ferry. This ferry crossing was made especially traumatic for me by the tall tales of horrible things that could possibly happen to us while on the ferry as recounted by my older siblings. I believed them. I took to hiding under the bench seats in my family's full-size van and crying and protesting the ferry, always to no avail. Their warnings were so effective that eventually they no longer needed to be present for me to be able to bring the horror to life. There was a particular time that I crossed the ferry with only my mom and a family friend, and I was still deathly afraid?I found there was even more empty space under the seats, which frightened me even more. Needless to say, I survived every crossing, and am probably no worse for wear, but that was a rough Sunday ritual.

There were many beautiful things looking out the window as a child, and these hops poles and their accompanying lines remain forever ingrained in my memory. I spotted them again while I was in the area for work, inspecting egg quality at a nearby egg farm. The egg farm was actually so intriguing that I intend to return to it when I'm not working for a proper photo collage of the operations?think giant conveyour belt with hundreds of eggs, mechanical washing apparatus, a lone woman in a booth with a really bright light performing quality control, and lots of hispanic guys on forklifts.

I am particularly happy with this photo. I feel like it captures how I felt as a child, looking into the infinity of the converging lines. I still feel that way.