I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
Peering into a remote office at Manitoba Wheat Pool #3. Someone left their to-do list behind.
From inside a painting shed, where heatlamps and a vented roof made sure that the Caddy looked like it was worth the price tag.
Officers got houses and the honor of living near other officers. They call it Officer’s Row.
Scanned after being recovered from the bottom of an old wooden box for a few years. Circa 2005.
This is one of my favorite doorways (yes, I have favorites) for a few reasons: 1.) You can see how the once-arched door has been squared-off for rectangular doors to fit; 2.) you can see one complete historic door and one ruined door, and the chain that used to hold them together before someone kicked-out the security, and; 3.) I like the texture of the bricks and design of the radiators in the room beyond–the blacksmith shop. Just do.
Bits and things in a pile in the corner of the smelter, the unsold chunks of industrial history that didn’t sell at an on-site auction before my visit.
This was a living space for the keepers during storms, when it was too dangerous to return to the houses on the point.