A bridge crosses the main street of the village; one that goes nowhere. Ambiguity intended.
In this ghost town where there were brick, wooden, and dirt-brick buildings, the latter fared the best by far.
I slid into the mill through the top floor, near where the rock-grinding ball mills were left to rust. I look around, taking in the most intact gold mill I’ve ever explored. Movement attracted my eye to the ceiling, where I found something staring back, a raven was observing me with some interest. It had been a while since I have brushed up on the folklore and mythology, but I took it as a good sign. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100
Wintertime is quiet, except for the planes overhead.
Looking toward Sleeping Giant from the workhouse.
Frontenac, as seen from the Missouri Flats area.
I wonder what this guy is thinking, walking through the complex.
The lower door is where the rocket exhaust would flow into the blast pit during initial launch. The upper doors would vent the rocket so the erector and other equipment in the building would not be (as) damaged.
The fantastic red elevator that is Pool #61, built 1928.