Sorry about the second straight post with nighttime pics, but as I try to do this as chronologically as possible, then we have to brave such things. Bear with me. Today's post is obviously related to the "two ships" post yesterday.
These pictures won't knock your socks off, or anything else for that matter, but I wanted you to see the stars that you can't see with your naked eye. By creating a timed exposure of say 20 seconds, the camera is able to pick up fainter light that you wouldn't be able to see if you stood out there like I did and looked up. This is in Keithsburg looking out over the river easterly.
Another pic looking over the river. The three straight horizontal stars smack dab in the middle are referred to usually as Orion's Belt. I'm not much into constellations mostly because I don't care. If I were I could very likely point out some constellations. Alas, because of my apathy you will have to look them up on your own.
While heading back to Emerald City, I stopped by the old baseball field in Shangri-La. This is, again, a timed exposure so as to bring in as much light as possible. All of the pictures in this post were taken with my Tokina 14-16 mm wide angle lens, which I really like. I parked at the old ball diamond up where the school used to be and pointed Northward for the shots. The grain elevator is to the left while the water tower is just about in the center. There are no ballgames anymore here, and the diamond and scoreboard return to nature. The elevator has been closed for decades and it, too, is falling victim to the elements. But when we were kids there were games here all the time in the summer, the elevator was humming along and the village was a bit more vibrant than it is today.
This is where the school used to be. My dad taught here briefly after the war, and all three of us boys wandered through its halls. I recall the ungodly heavy purple curtain at the stage. The time I fell off the slide which caused a bit of a stir. The time I received the "board of education" from Don Clute for misbehavior. The many times my grandmother would be up from Quincy and sit with Mark and I in 1st grade class. That class was helmed by Miss Anderson who, when vexed, would get both eyes swiveling independently like a chameleon, which scared the bejesus out of all of us. That was also the grade Mike Sponsler's mother would make "glass candy". It was the place we learned to play the tonette, and get a milk break in the basement in the afternoons.
It is empty now. A couple sidewalks left that speak of a time when kids were running outside for recess to play dodgeball. I didn't hear any voices on my night out alone in this lonely place. The only witness left of those days long ago are the eternal stars in the endless heaven above.