Critical Impact...teaser sample

 From the Matthew Jacobs Critical Impact action novel...a teaser sample. (Available on Amazon).

Critical Impact is the third book in the Running the Edge series. Released November 2, 2025 the book is perhaps the most intense of the series where the main character, Matthew Jacobs, is thrust into a situation that challenges everything he stands for; his mission, his duty, his dedication, and his faith.

The following is a short sample text...(Each book in the series can be purchased individually or as a set...and it is recommended to read the series in sequence.)

......

“Matt, we’ve got maybe fifteen minutes until we reach our Critical Return Point. I’m sorry, but I have no choice in this. It’s a mandatory operational issue. We can try again later once we get refueled.”

“Can we make one more pass north. Give me seven minutes more Ian. Can you do that?”

Ian looked at the flashing CRP light then at his copilot. “You got an extra seven minutes Matt, then I’m pulling the plug.”

Ian swung the 1369 again into a wide arch that took them out over the ocean just beyond the break line, then he angled back in toward the dunes eventually turning due north flying just above where the breakers met the beach.

“Ian. Let’s keep her further out. Maybe we’re just looking too straight down from the wrong angle. We might be able to see something from a different angle now that the sun is higher in the sky.”

Ian raised his left hand and gave him a thumbs up. The 1369 dropped lower to about a hundred feet giving them still another angle from which to view the area. Four minutes later Carlos and Xavier again heard the chopper approaching from the south. They scrambled another time to crawl under the burlap tarp.

“They must be looking for us.” Xavier complained.

“How would they know we’re even here? They’ll never find anything. Just stay still.”

 Sharon again heard the chopper and realized it was approaching from a lower angle out in front of their position where she could see it visually. She tried to break open the locked door to the shed but could not budge it loose. She looked for something she could use as a signal devise but all she found was the loose piece of tarnished tin that was roughly six inches square with crumpled edges. The higher angle of the sun now cast several beams of light that filtered through cracks in the shed planking. She grabbed the piece of tin and vigorously rubbed it against her Jeans trying to polish it enough to reflect light.

The 1369 came closer and she could see it as it moved above the beach out in front of her about two hundred yards. In desperation, she tried to bounce some of the sunlight off the tin and through the narrow cracks, then shifted to the larger opening a knothole provided hoping enough reflection would get through to catch the eye of someone on the chopper. She angled the tin moving it back and forth catching as much of the small beam of sunlight as she could. With each movement, she tried to follow the slow-moving chopper.

 

***

 

Matt and Pell scanned the dunes but could see nothing. He looked at his watch and knew time was running out. He turned to slide back deeper into the cargo area about to give it up when something caught his eye. A flash…a dull flash, but a flash none-the-less. Then another.

“Ian! Slow down. Back up.”

“You see something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I saw a flash. It came from the backside of a dune with a lot of debris and beach grass covering it.”

Ian slowed the 1369 and began a slow reversal of their direction maintaining their same heading, just floating backwards.

“It was over there along that long line of dunes where all the large driftwood logs are scattered. I’m sure of it.” Matt exclaimed.

Pell responded, “I don’t see anything.”

“Give me your binoculars.”

Matt scanned the dune for several seconds then locked his point onto something that looked out of place. He took a closer look.

“There. Ian. 90 degrees straight off our starboard side. A vehicle covered by a tarp. It’s that blue and white Blazer. We’ve found them.”

Then another flash caught his eye. “It’s got to be Sharon. Set us down.” Ian spun the 1369 around in a wide turning arch and headed south again.

“Where are you going?”

“We’ve reached our CP Matt. We gotta head back.”

“No Ian. Not yet. Drop me off.”

“No can do. You’re not even supposed to be here. Commander Reese gave me strict orders.”

“Since when have you ever obeyed strict orders!”

Ian rolled his head from side to side and looked at his copilot again who shrugged his shoulders agreeing with Matt.

“Ah Matthew…I’m really going to catch it for doing this. Stand-by. We’re going down about four hundred yards south of that position, A running drop and go. You’ll have to jump not enough fuel left to hover long enough to lower you down on the winch. You’ll be on your own, but I’ll radio ahead your position and request for backup.”

Matt grabbed his small backpack that had a handheld transceiver inside, some water and an energy bar along with a box of shells for his 30-06. He slung the rifle case strap over his shoulder crossing it in front of his chest and pulled the case around to his side so it would clear the choppers hatch, then he removed his helmet and replaced it with his dark blue ballcap pulling it low over his brow so it would not blow off.

Ian brought the 1369 down in a low, slow pass. Matt sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the opened sliding hatch and Pell extended his arm in front of him preventing him from jumping from to high up.

Sand and beach grasses began to fly in all directions as downwash from the chopper ripped across the dune. Matt slid further over to the edge positioning the butt end of his rifle case between his legs. Pell removed his arm and pointed with his hand for Matt to jump. The fall was about eight feet and he landed hard but the sand cushioned his fall and he rolled across and down a shallow slope, then crawled to his knees and waved at Ian who raised the 1369 in a climbing turn to the south and left the area. Within seconds, Matt was alone and the only sound came from the wind blowing through the grass and the ocean waves rolling up on the beach a couple hundred yards away. He started moving in the direction where he spotted the hidden Blazer careful not to expose himself above the dunes using them instead to hide his movement. The loose sand and undulating character of the dunes slowed his progress.

 

***

 

Carlos and Xavier climbed out from under the tarp and ran to the top of the dune that offered a clearer view toward the south. They saw the 1369 drop low partially hidden by a high dune then rise again and fly off.

“They’ve dropped someone,” Carlos said.

“You sure. Where? I don’t see anyone.”

“He’s there alright. I’m sure of it. And I know who it is.”

“Who?”

“That Jacobs fellow. I’m sure of it…from the Coast Guard, the one who tried to stop us before.”

“You didn’t see him so how can you be sure?”

Carlos threw a cynical stare toward Xavier.

“I’m sure. Because we have his family. And we can use them against him.”

“Can you take him.”

“All I need is a clear shot about six inches square and he’s as good as dead.”

“Then do it.”

Carlos raised his rifle and checked the breech once again blowing out a few grains of sand. He extracted the already loaded main clip and reinserted it into the rifle. A quick jerk on the slide and the first shell slid into the chamber. He walked below the crest of the dune for about fifty yards and then climbed toward the top crawling the last few yards so not to expose himself. He stretched the rifle across a small piece of driftwood and slid his barrel through a clump of beach grass that offered a good area of camouflage. He opened the spring-loaded scope covers and began to scan the dunes searching for his target....

***

 

.... Carlos slowly scanned the dunes through his scope. His trained eye looking for what did not belong. Any twitch, an off-center shadow, odd movements, out of place colors, behind every blade of grass and beneath any of the dunes, his victim could be hiding. He detected movement and swung his scope on the location. A bird. He began to sweat. He knew Jacobs was there. All he needed was a few inches of open space that lined up with his target. Then more movement caught his eye. He shifted his sight again and saw the top edge of Matt’s shoulders and head moving diagonally behind a dune. Matt stopped behind a log and slightly raised his eye above its edge his ballcap tipping over the upper side. Carlos leveled his rifle then quickly fired.

Kentucky's Raw Nature: Photographing Whitetail Deer Snow Flurries

 Snow flurries in Kentucky early in November is a rare moment. When the moment does present itself, then the opportunity to capture nature in her raw form is something that is hard to let get away. That is exactly what happened this week when winter-like temperatures invaded the Commonwealth and snow flurries followed shortly thereafter. I spent a chilly but fun late afternoon observing the local deer herd and captured a few images along with some interesting video footage as snow flurries created almost whiteout conditions. Please enjoy this short video from that outing.

Photographing Kentucky's Big Deer

For several days in a row the weather remained bright and clear and very fall-like with the fall colors reaching their peak by weeks end. Always my favorite time of year the fall season and this season proved itself amongst one of the finest. With the cooler temperatures, the local deer population began to stir and tucked in and amongst the woodlands I found several large rubs where the bucks left their mark by rubbing their antlers along the trunks of saplings. Scattered across these rub lines and a good number of scrapes were also present. Both signs the rut was beginning.

On day one several small and mid-sized bucks mingled with the does. One decent buck with a thick and tall set of antlers chased the does across the field. I managed a few photos and a few video clips. Toward the end of that afternoon when the available light began to fade, one very nice buck made his appearance by sauntering across the back corner of the field. His pace was direct and determined but not hurried. His antlers stood broad, wide, thick and tall and his appearance became the highlight of the day.

By day three, the activity slowed somewhat, but a few deer did make an appearance and mingled within the does was a single nice buck with an oddly shaped set of antlers. They stood tall, almost straight up, but were thick and heavy with his left side antler being tilted inward more than the other side.

Been a while since I made a photographing Kentucky deer episode. so please enjoy....

Coming on November 1st, 2025 - Critical Impact

 Coming November 2025. Another Matthew Jacobs action novel by Keith Bridgman. Check out the promotional video...

The Black and White Landscape Composition - What I look For

 I had just spent a couple days on a long anticipated and delayed overnight canoe camping / photographic trip. Early afternoon on that last day had already settled in and the sky was bright and blue with long fingers of clouds accenting the sky. I enjoyed the canoe paddle back to where I had parked on the lake taking my time to simply observe and anticipate any photographic opportunity that might happen to catch my eye. As it turned out I did manage to capture a few images, most being ordinary but enjoyable captures featuring the long terrain surrounding the lake and that amazing blue sky being held aloft by those beautiful clouds. After unloading my canoe and repacking all the gear into and on top of my Jeep, I climbed aboard and headed down the country lane that would eventually take me home. On the way out I noticed a fresh cut field on my left where a myriad of large rolls of hay lay randomly stacked across the landscape. Overhead almost like a supporting cast for that amazing blue sky, those long streaks of clouds stretched their veils above and across the horizon. I slammed on the brakes, pulled out my camera, and began to visually search across the field for a composition that would capture the moment in such a way as to portray what not only my eye perceived, but what my heart experienced.

Sometimes it is difficult to explain to someone who may not possess the same affinity for black and white photography how and why I look for specific elements when capturing a moment and why I love black and white photography. Black and white relies more strongly on composition, shape, form, structure, contrast, and story than a color image. Color images rely on those things as well, and even more so on the light that is available, but often color itself gets in the way. Light, of course, is important for black and white as well, but black and white is more suited for a wider range of lighting conditions than color is. Taking a mid-day color image will result more often in an ordinary and rather bland photograph. Take that same photograph, convert it to black and white. Add a bit of contrast. Throw in a filter or two and that bland image suddenly explodes into wonderful composition filled with story and structure.

I look for opportunities where there is a bright blue sky accented with varying degrees of cloud structures often combined with water and the reflections it offers. It's the clouds that set the sky apart and added to the nostalgic flavor of the image moment. Attach a polarizer filter to the lens and add that blue sky takes on a deepness and depth an ordinary blue sky might lack. Compositionally, I look for story and depth. Both of these go together. Depth adds to the story and carries the viewer into the image. The elements of the composition write the visual story. 

I also look for variations in contrasts. A good black and white image should in most cases possess within its composition darks and lights and middle tones that range from almost fully black, to almost fully white. Each composition is different with some containing more darks than lights and some just the opposite.  It's that contrast between the darks and lights than spell out the story. A dark black and white sky should be able to move the viewer toward understanding just how blue the sky actually was. Clouds are key to that for clouds provide the sky character and movement and should tie the sky to the surface.

When using the sky I usually try to offer more of it than from the foreground and sometimes I split the image down the center breaking from the rule of thirds syndrome, and I often look for a line that leads the viewer into the photograph taking their eye right up into the sky. To me, the sky is the most important element in a black and white landscape. It's not the only element of course, but it offers an opportunity to provide the viewer with a sense of bigness where the foreground or the landscape itself offers a sense of place. Both work together and when elements of the foreground extend into the sky, then the composition begins to tie itself together. 

Learning how to recognize what makes a good black and white landscape composition while viewing the world through the color filter of our eyes takes a bit practice and experimenting. But, when you begin to master that ability, the black and white image opportunities begin to magically appear. Black and white was my first photography love, and I still seek out the allure and strength of what it offers.

Overnight Canoe Camping and Photography on Kentucky's Barren River Lake

 Finally made an overnight canoe trip on Barren River Lake. The first one of the 2025 season. Warm days and cool evening made for an enjoyable outing. Foggy morning made for excellent photography opportunities.

Please enjoy....

All You Need is...One

 The past several months I have neglected getting out doing much of anything in the outdoors. Lots of reasons for that. Sad thing is, as a result my photography has suffered. The past few days I managed to get out again for a concentrated photo shoot with just me, my canoe, some camping gear, and my camera. I suppose this unseasonable change in the weather helped to jump start me out of my doldrums, so I head over to Kentucky's beautiful Barren River Lake for an overnight canoe camping trip. My intent was to refocus on my photography and hopefully rediscover the magic this creative art performs. As with most of my outings, I managed to take several hundred photographs...about half of which were...eeeah. The other half produced some okay images but nothing out of the ordinary...but...as I have often shared on this blog...all you need is one.

The first day was spent canoeing over to my favorite isolated camping spot...a nice, somewhat secluded cove with a commanding view of that part of the lake...a view that potentially offers some excellent sundown opportunities. After cooking myself a steak and fried potatoes supper over my small campfire, I settled back to wait for that sundown to develop. Turned out to be rather uneventful as clouds moved in and created a dull light that offered not much of anything.

I called it a day rather early and did some reading. The evening air started to cool down creating a very nice crispy feel to the night air. I was tired, so I shut off the small reading light and tried to get some sleep. Sleep always seems to avoid me especially on my first night out like that, but somehow I managed to drift off, waking several times during the night to shift my position trying to relieve a stiff back. When I finally did fall fast asleep, the night went by rather quickly and I awoke to the sound of an irritated blue heron squawking like he'd been insulted. I raised up a little and realized that squawking heron had done me a huge favor. The sun was still several minutes from rising but the sky out front of my camping area was glowing with a soft delight. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my camera. When I stepped out onto the sandy/gravel beach area, I was greeted with a wonderful layer of fog that drifted across the lake. Fog on this lake is one of its treasures and this time of year when the water is still warm and the air is crisp and cool...well I was hoping for such a morning. 

I chased the light here and there capturing quick images then I worked my way over toward where a small cove slices into the peninsula I was camped on. Across the way about a hundred yards or so a small point of land juts into the lake and behind it a heavy layer of fog drifted through the trees and over the water. The light was magical, soft, blue, and accented by the fog drifting across the landscape. The subtle greenness of some bushes and the stark portraiture of distant tree trunks caught my photographers eye. The shot I was waiting for...looking for...hoping for materialized out of the morning air before the sun invaded the landscape and ruined the moment. I pointed my camera. Framed a few quick images. Snapped several shots. Readjusted my exposure and shifted my position slightly and fired off another quick image or two. The in-camera results looked promising and I thought maybe these might produce something usable.

Fast forward to the next day after I had returned home. I managed to offload those images and browse through them when I came across that small series I just described. My Ansel Adams creative mindset started to kick in in color and I began to explore what those images offered. When I finished with the final image, none of the others I took mattered much after that. Like I said...all you need is...one.

A look Back: Revisiting My Favorite 'Zippo Lighter' Moment

Trying to make up for lost time. The year 2025 started out with a lot of ideas and plans but fell apart for the most part because external events I had no control over. Spent some time the past few days reviewing some of my video archives and ran across this particular video I really liked and thought I would repost it to fill in some of the BTC gaps from the past few months. 

Zippo Lighter moments are a reflection of stories that revolved around my old friend Ralph. He not only was a good friend but became a mentor and inspiration for not only myself, but for several others of our little troop of outdoor enthusiasts. He always carried a pipe no matter where he found himself. Whether fishing from a canoe, hunting ducks on a cloudy winter day, or hiking along the edges of a field quail hunting, that pipe and him became as one. The strongest memory I have was the sound of the old Zippo Lighter he used to fire it off. The clink, zip, puff sound associated with him and his pipe engrained within all of us special moments afield. No camera, no video footage were required. The visual images were welded into our minds and hearts and became symbolic of those early days afield.

This video chronicles one very special moment...one of my favorites. Please enjoy, A Zippo Lighter Moment - When Nature Wins.

Finally...! Back in the Saddle...A Hot August Day Canoeing Kentucky's Barren River Lake

 Well...I made all kinds plans to do a bunch of outdoor related adventures for 2025, but Mother Nature intervened and pretty well shut down most all of those attempts. Here it is the first week of August and I finally made it over to Barren River Lake for day of canoeing...and it was hot! 

We received so much rain during the spring and early part of the summer that the lake level rose to almost 38 feet above its normal summer pool level all but putting a stop to any kind of canoe camping because all of my camping spots were thirty-five underwater. Not until recent days has the level finally dropped down to its normal level. On top of that, the month of July was one of the most uncomfortable summer months I can remember around these parts. Hot. Humid. Stifling.

But most of that is behind us now except the heat part which is still lingering. In spite of that I managed to get out Finally with my canoe and make an 8 mile out and back canoe trip on Barren River Lake a few days ago. I really needed to get out too and even though it was a hot day with very little breeze, I thoroughly enjoyed the day. 

Come and join me on this outing...Please enjoy: Finally! A Hot August Day Canoeing Kentucky's Barren River Lake!

Precision and Discipline - The Appeal of Target Shooting

 The midday July heat and humidity wrapped itself around me like a warmed over wet bear rug. Almost no breeze failed to help cool off my clammy skin. At least the shade offered some measure of relief and as I squeezed in alongside the scrap wood shooting bench I was grateful for the shady area cast by the large maple tree. Fifty yards down range on my backyard shooting range, a small black circle with a red center dot target sat taped to its supporting three foot by three foot by five inch carboard backing. I opened the breach of my sixty year old bolt action Western Field 22 caliber single shot rifle and inserted a fifth bullet to finish out the final five shot series. The front stock of the rifle settled onto the DIY shooting pad and I felt the butt plate slide gently into the socket of my right shoulder. The drop of the stock slid onto the rear pad and I placed my cheek against the stock. When I opened my eyes, the scope cross hairs were off just a bit from the dead center alignment of the target. A gentle nudge of the rear pad and they settled across dead center. The previous four shots from what I could tell looked as though they were almost touching in a tight group. My thought was, 'don't blow this...' I placed slight pressure on the trigger and felt it give a fraction of an inch. I checked my eye alignment with the scope to insure the parallax alignment would not bite me...too much anyway. (Parallax is that phenomena inherent in many rifle scopes where the scope reticle and the actual target are focused on separate plane so if your eye placement is off even a fraction, what might appear as a dead center alignment will actually be off as much as an inch or more). I squeezed the trigger...and felt a bit surprised when the report of the rifle ripped the quiet of the moment. The shot felt good. From what I could see through my scope the grouping looked good and the last shot appeared to hit dead center. After securing the rifle I made the fifty yard walk to the target and discovered the old rifle and at least for this one grouping, the old man could still shoot. A dime could cover the group and I felt good about the effort.

Target shooting is one of the recreational adventures I have attempted off and on over the years...mostly off. Back in the mid-90's I actually competed a few times in some club shoots...held my own, but...using that same, then 40-year old, rifle it was difficult to compete on an even scale going up against shooters using designated target rifles costing a great deal more than my old Western Field. But, as in a great many other endeavors, it is less about what kind of rifle you are using and more the person pulling the trigger when it comes to target shooting. Back then I actually managed to outshoot some of those guys who were competing with high dollar rifles, but the limitations of that old sport rifle lowered the success level I could attain.

Back in my Coast Guard days, we had to qualify at the range using the M16 and the 1911 Colt 45cal semi-pistol. I managed to qualify Sharpshooter on the M16 (just a few points shy of expert) and Marksman with the 45 (just a few points shy of Sharpshooter). Needless to say, all the 22 plinking and even BB-gun shooting at tin cans certainly played a roll in the success I had at the range back then.

Arkansas Muzzleloader State Championships

 When I lived in Arkansas I managed to compete in   two muzzleloader shoots. One was the Arkansas   Muzzleloader State Championships and the other   was the Arkansas Muzzleloader Invitational Shoot.   These shoots were a lot of fun and I managed to win   a couple of second place medals along the way.   These were tough shoots with some very fine   marksmen competing many of them shooting custom   made high dollar muzzleloaders. I shot with a simple   kit gun ( paid like $89.00 for it) that I assembled and   figured out how to effectively shoot the thing. Again,   it's the person pulling the trigger that makes the   difference and with that simple muzzleloader, I   practiced until I became proficient and confident in   how that gun shot at twenty-five and fifty yards and   managed to out perform higher dollar firearms as a   result.

The appeal to target shooting is different than the appeal of simply plinking at tin cans. Target shooting requires an element of discipline where every shot must be executed in exactly the same way in order to achieve the precision you are looking for. Internal elements like hold, eye relief, trigger squeeze, recoil, follow through, breathing, heart beat/rate, focus, all come into play. External elements also play a factor like wind, sun angle, heat wave mirage, cold and hot conditions, type and brand of ammunition, and humidity all can toss a monkey wrench into any target shooters attempts at firing a tight group. The trick is to keep exactly the same forces working on the rifle for each shot. The idea is not to think of it as a five shot group competition, but five, one-shot competitions.

Somatic conditions, or the feel of the shot, work their way into the shooters mindset. Visualization of how the shot will play out plays a significant role in the success of the shooter. Awareness of how your body and mind are working together to form the perfect sight picture, then translating that image into a smooth consistent action is what allows the rifle to fire at precisely the correct moment and the recoil to complete exactly as before, is what builds tight groupings.

Confidence, self assurance, focus, desire, and the understanding that yes, even the best shooters sometimes miss the mark. Failure then becomes a learning and strengthening tool that leads to a more consistent success rate.

The very idea of Precision shooting is what appeals to me. The discipline required to obtain that kind of precision certainly helps one to be able to focus on other aspects of life as well. I enjoy plinking at tin cans as much as anyone, but, to sit down and focus your energy onto that rifle and attempt to place five shots into a target fifty yards away forming a group a dime could cover, well, I just wish I could do it every time, but I fail to do so most of the time. Even so, when everything falls into place and the feel of the shot becomes focused deep inside your mind and body to generate that elusive tight group...well, the satisfaction is well worth the effort and the results are their own reward.

 

Simplicity - The Essence of Seeing

 Simplicity in photography creates images that flow like a soft melody and sometimes simplicity itself becomes the defining elements within a Landscape or a Nature photograph. Landscapes and nature photographs in general, by their very nature can be as complex or simple as nature itself. There are times the scene is filled with an abundance of details all working together to create an amazing view. Yet, there are times when simplicity becomes the defining purpose of the image. Of the two, the simple landscape can often be the most difficult to find and capture.

Creating the Simple Landscape or Nature image requires one important adjustment; Finding a location where all the clutter is naturally removed. This is not always easy to do and often requires that we employ creative compositional discovery techniques. In most cases it is a matter of and the essence of seeing, looking beyond the ordinary to focus in on form and using the purest of light to define the subject.

Light of course is always the main element in every great photograph, but without a great subject, light is simply light. Your job as a photographer is to combine the two into a creative form. For me, to create the Simple Landscape requires warm, low angle light. Late afternoon light when the shadows are long and the nature of the light takes on a natural glowing aura is the best time. Early morning light can be just as compelling and offers a unique range of possibilities, but any time of day can be effect and under certain circumstances even shooting in the middle of the day works well.

Look for those simple striking compositional elements where only a few pieces are present. Avoid overly complex situations with a lot of competing components. As in all landscapes, all of the components are elements that need to be there and anything that interferes with the story must be removed either by changing the angle, or changing your lens. In other words, focus in what is truly important.

Finding and capturing compelling and simple images requires the photographer to use not only their eyes, but to use their instinctive understanding of what make a great composition. Things like background, angle of light, Time of day, temperature of the light, camera level, timing, and position of the shooter. Simply moving a few inches to one side or forward or backward or even turning around and looking the other direction can often transform the composition. 

When observing a potential photographic moment, ask yourself three What is questions, 'What is capturing my eye...What is my vision locking onto...What is unique about what I am seeing?'  Then remove everything else from your composition by lens selection and your position and camera angle.

Simplicity. The Essence of Seeing is indeed one of the most rewarding of photographic moments. 

Gone But Not Forgotten

     I made the short drive recently over to one of my favorite photo-op locations. The day looked like a good day for some black and white photography as the sky shined cobalt blue and cloud formations presented themselves with unique and dramatic textures. I did manage to capture a few images before I traveled on around for a couple of miles to find one of my favorite old trees that sat out in an open field. This old tree in the past provided several wonderful photo-ops during similar conditions. The last time I photographed it, I was taken aback by the fact that two houses had been built to either side of it effectively disrupting the scenic value. Even so, with some careful framing and maneuvering, it was possible to capture the tree against the sky and background. However, on this day as I approached, my heart sank as all that remained of the stately old tree was a pile of burned out rubble. Someone had cut it down and burned it as so much debris. 

   I have over the years captured photographically several locations which today no longer exist. All of them tore down for the sake of progress or possibly personal gain. There is another location just a few miles from where I live where I captured perhaps one of my favorite images. There was another tall stately tree situated next to an old fence. By standing at the bottom of a dip in the road, the tree could be isolated against a broad sky. On one occasion I purposely made my way over there and captured this scene that was eventually transformed into a mirror image. The sun had just set, yet the sky retained a wonderful blue hue to it. The moon hovered just above the tree and light wispy clouds drifted across the blue hour sky. The tree nor the fence are still there, once again cut or destroyed by someone for some reason. I love the serenity of this image and its simplicity and as I do from time to time travel over that way let go a sad sigh as I pass by this now empty spot.

Old barns are disappearing by the hundreds off the landscape and with them that sense of nostalgic wonder. Yes they are old, but they are more than that. They serve as a reminder of times past, of someone's dream and of memories of simpler times. I am drawn to their character and love the way to add charm and interest to the landscape. It is sad really to see so many of them destroyed or dismantled their time seasoned wood turned into furniture or fireplace mantles, or simply burned. 

There were two old barns both just down the road from my home in opposite directions. Both are now gone and where one used to be, small apartments are being built. The other one is simply gone, probably sold to someone who used the lumber for other things. I miss seeing both of them as they were iconic symbols of the Kentucky landscape that represented the best of what old Kentucky stood for.

The winter image of that huge old barn still showed the weathered red paint that once adorned it. There was the overhanging part across the front where I'm sure hay and probably other things were lifted via pulley and ropes and stacked in the loft. It was one of the most beautiful old barns I've ever seen, but alas, all that remains of it is a few scraps of debris from around its base and most of that has been plowed under and grown over.

Many years ago, someone took this photo of the old Wister, Oklahoma train station. As a young boy growing up in Wister, that old station was still in operation and I even took a train ride once. I was very young, but I do remember it. The tracks and the station are now long gone and that small community missed an opportunity to turn that old building into a wonderful museum. Hindsight I suppose is always 20/20 they say. Even so, I wish that old train station could have been preserved. I am thankful for whoever snapped this image I'd guess somewhere around 1915 maybe.

There is another photo most likely taken sometime during the 1940's of the train station in Wister. From the looks of it, I'd say the original building had been replaced and this is the station I most likely traveled from when I was young boy. It too is long gone and all that remains of it is the foundation. My dad and I once a long time ago before he passed away, walked over to where it stood and found some old bricks and debris and what looked like the base line of the foundation still there. It brought back many memories for him and a few for me as well. 

In that little community, there were numerous old brick buildings most of which are no longer standing. One of the more iconic of them was the one I know as 'The Dixie Store'. It was a store my grandparents ran for a good many years before they branched out on their own to open their own store. The old Dixie Store stood vacant for many years and eventually was demolished for some reason, most likely because it became a hazard from neglect. But, I do remember that old store and the stories my grand parents told about it. In this photo taken by my grandfather, in the background you can see a couple other buildings. The one toward the very back with the white facing was a grocery store my Aunt May and her husband ran for many years. She was my grandfathers sister and I remember running up the wooden steps out front, through the screen door and hearing it slam behind me and stepping into another world where the wooden floors creaked and overhead fans rattled and swayed as they vainly tried to keep the inside cool. A few years back, probably close to twenty years or more now, my wife and I stopped in and discovered that old place was still standing as an antique store. We stopped and stepped inside and instantly, the sounds of the creaking floor and the rumbling of the old overhead fans and yes even the aroma of the building hit me like I had just stepped into a time machine. I was amazed at the power of those senses as they were the same as the ones I remembered from the years of my youth. I don't know if that old store is still standing or not, but the memories of having lived during those days are as strong and clear as ever.

Grand Opening

    During the early 1950's, before I was born, my grandparents opened their own store. It was called appropriately enough, 'Bridgman's Dry Goods Store'. It was a wonderful place and they provided household goods, clothing, and other assorted types of merchandise. The first few years of my life I probably spent more time in that store than I did at home and it became a place of adventure for me. Way in the back corner, barely visible in the photo there is an old woodened box crank phone. 

We had one just like like it in our home and I do remember using it having to turn the crank. The building where their store stood is still there having been used by numerous other entities. But I remember it so fondly as the place where as a young boy I spent so much time running around inside that building. The store is long gone having faded into the past, but the memories of those times are as strong and meaningful as any I may still retain.

    Gone but not forgotten. Yeah, sometimes events, circumstances, and even time removes from us those things that at the time were most likely taken for granted. Memories are a wonder thing to hold on to for they connect us across time to events, places, people, and wonderful moments that become a living part of who we are. I am pleased to have captured as a photograph some of the things around me that are now gone, and I am thankful for the few images taken by others that capture the moments of my youth and even years before that that evolved toward the future and became intertwined into my life experiences.