Driving down route one, I caught a glimpse of something on a sideways sweep. Was that a lamp on the side of the road? I turned around and pulled over, and, yes, there was a lamp on the side of the road. I made a series of photographs in that scene, and those are pictures for another day (or maybe for my photo-poetic project with my friend Susan). At this point, I was turned facing the wrong direction for my drive to my physical therapy appointment, so I turned on a side road to turn around - again. I noticed a sign to Taylorsville Baptist Church and figured I’d take a look at the small church, but there were a few people in the parking lot and I didn’t want to disrupt their gathering. I passed the church and saw a sign that warned, caution - one lane tunnel ahead. Who doesn’t want to go through a one-lane tunnel? I stopped, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the road to take pictures of this tunnel, a bridge with train tracks on top, a cut through beneath. The date 1929 neatly stamped in stone.

I’ve been holding onto the picture of the tunnel of sunflowers, too. The tractor parked just at the pass-through. Mountains in the background. The dead tree. I know this tree must be dying because there are no leaves, even in July. Though I love sunflowers with their bright shiny faces, I seldom take pictures of them. I am not called to make such pictures. But these sunflowers, almost spent, leaves curled and heads hanging low . . . they speak of joy in a different way. The joy of being used up, of giving all that you have, and the pride of having done what you could.