This is a photo of two old smoke stacks from an abandoned factory. Those are clouds, not smoke, in the sky. They kind of look like giant wine bottles to me (with a very old vintage inside).
Maybe I’ll call the wine Rustique. “Pungent aromas of rust, ashes and coal dust greet the nose with a huge metallic follow-through.” Any artists out there care to design a label?
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa-o-o-o-a…
I can still remember a time before Wal-Mart came tromping into town when there were neighborhood grocers that were owned by local townsfolk. This was the first one I remember. It was within walking distance of my first house and though I can’t remember much of life at 5 years, I do vaguely recall walking to it with my big sister on a summer day and stopping to pick an apple off a tree along the way. Or going grocery shopping with my Mom and pausing to chat with Mr. or Mrs. Vaughn as we wandered through the aisles. My sister (who must have been 8 or 9 at the time) once had her picture taken and put on the front page of the paper while shopping for the Easter ham at the meat counter – or something like that. It was an IGA for a while, but mostly we just knew it as Vaughn’s.
Ramblin’ Kathy got me to thinking about it with her post on Rexall drugstores and her emerging “Rustique” genre of photography.