Evening at Logan
Nature is random yet ordered in its own way.
The stars are still there even when we can’t see them.
As happens so very often, the sun and the clouds have ideas contrary to ours.
And the trains seldom appear when we want them to.
The Trifecta of Discontent once again.
Yet, the evening was magical, and reserved only for those who showed up for it---
The gentle breezes cooling the hot afternoon to the distant boom of thunder---
Lightning bolts crackling across the sky as storm clouds unleashed their fury upon the land---
A land not quite desert---
Not quite plains---
But New Mexico fully.
The Universe, in all its immense beauty, gave us what it wanted too, forcing us to react with but a few moments notice.
There was an ethereal glow in the clouds and a mechanical rumble on the wind as the train rounded the gentle curve and drifted downgrade, its form in perfect silhouette, the blue of evening but a sliver above the railhead as the big GEs guided their charges eastward, slack bunched in on the drawbar as it headed for the Canadian River and the steel High Bridge that spanned its trickle.
The light had died for the sought-after image, and there was an unwillingness to hurry back out into the brush in an attempt to salvage it. Denim and wool socks are easily penetrated by venom-bearing fangs.
So, there in that moment, on the rain dampened blacktop, we made our stand---
A simple composition that is a few thousand exposures old would have to suffice.
We would harbor no discontent.
---RAM
Rick Malo©2025
A Union Pacific freight rolls east on the Golden State Route near Logan, New Mexico at 6:47 pm on August 18th, 2025.
Evening at Logan
Nature is random yet ordered in its own way.
The stars are still there even when we can’t see them.
As happens so very often, the sun and the clouds have ideas contrary to ours.
And the trains seldom appear when we want them to.
The Trifecta of Discontent once again.
Yet, the evening was magical, and reserved only for those who showed up for it---
The gentle breezes cooling the hot afternoon to the distant boom of thunder---
Lightning bolts crackling across the sky as storm clouds unleashed their fury upon the land---
A land not quite desert---
Not quite plains---
But New Mexico fully.
The Universe, in all its immense beauty, gave us what it wanted too, forcing us to react with but a few moments notice.
There was an ethereal glow in the clouds and a mechanical rumble on the wind as the train rounded the gentle curve and drifted downgrade, its form in perfect silhouette, the blue of evening but a sliver above the railhead as the big GEs guided their charges eastward, slack bunched in on the drawbar as it headed for the Canadian River and the steel High Bridge that spanned its trickle.
The light had died for the sought-after image, and there was an unwillingness to hurry back out into the brush in an attempt to salvage it. Denim and wool socks are easily penetrated by venom-bearing fangs.
So, there in that moment, on the rain dampened blacktop, we made our stand---
A simple composition that is a few thousand exposures old would have to suffice.
We would harbor no discontent.
---RAM
Rick Malo©2025
A Union Pacific freight rolls east on the Golden State Route near Logan, New Mexico at 6:47 pm on August 18th, 2025.