Your Morning Cup of Pixels: Ghosts

For the next few days, I’ll be posting some of the rural photographs from our Toadstool trip—scenes that are very typical of the Nebraska Sandhills, of the abandoned and forgotten, the quirky Americana, and the landscape itself, which often contains some relic of a homestead or machinery from many generations past and that has been chipped away by the elements and reclaimed by the prairie brush and sand. Ancient gravel roads lead to nowhere, weeds thrive inside ramshackle homes, and rusty windmills resist the prairie gales with stubborn resolve. Ghosts are everywhere and manifest in all forms.

‘the distant echo of laughing children’

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