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Seasons Change

Isn't it odd how we all have little rituals as the seasons change. At the first sign of fall I'll take out my gumbo pot and start mixing flour and oil for a roux just like every other Cajun women. Then you take out a favorite shirt that hasn't seen  daylight since last winter, if  actually we even had a winter season last year in this tropical south.  I start planning a road trip searching the back roads of this parish looking for old barns or dilapidated structures to photograph. It must have something to do with the cool winds that blow the heat back towards the gulf.

It's cane harvest time here and I'm looking forward to finding old tractors grinding their way down curvy black top roads to the sugar mill.  The smell of molasses fills the air as you drive past oak alleys near the St. John Refinery.
Yes fall has arrived.  I'm ready.

The photograph I posted is actually an old settlers place near Carbondale, Co. but it's what I hope to capture near the Atch…

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