Mitchell Avenue, the main drag of a ghost town. Traces of asphalt and curbs are barely visible through patches of grass. In the old plan of the town, Mitchell Hotel would be to my direct left in this scene, and about 10 houses would flank this street to the left and right.
An article from Minnpost describes this design as “marital”, and I could not agree more.
The rust garden’s brick centerpiece contrasts the muted winter Kentucky palette.
This was taken before the top of the docks really started to rot-out; now this stretch past the crane is distinctly unsafe to cross. Still, you can’t beat the view of Dock #2 winding into the distance, where the approach is chopped-off before the yard used to extend.
“Paint the fence,” they said, but I don’t feel like it… who cares, anyway.
This building would store and maintain warheads. It was right next to the launch pad, but the two were separated by a high mound.
Trees like masks.
Everything had to be tested before being sent to the front lines. Here’s where smaller ammunition would be test-fired. I was able to dig up several misfired rounds. Now they live in my collection of oddities.