Windows

Today was the end of ice cream stand season in this area, so we made a final trip to the Creamery in Delphos, Ohio. The Creamery offers typical soft serve fare, but it also has an array of hard dip ice cream available in near-obscene portions at low prices. For less than $3.00, I was able to enjoy almost a pint of peanut butter crunch ice cream. If you ask for one dip, they will give you a cup packed to the brim with ice cream, topped with an impressively large scoop.

Whenever we visit this ice cream stand, I am enchanted with the old buildings in this small town. Actually, I should make another trek there on a sunny day just to get some decent shots of my favorites, including a curiously truncated brick Colonial home next to the Miami Erie Canal. I should also get a picture of the curiously named Mayflower Hong Kong Restaurant, whose name and mission are proclaimed with 1984 hardware-store-purchased lettering (also the year this restaurant first opened).

Leading up to The Creamery, there are some super small homes and businesses, including what appears to be a defunct insurance agency. Its abandonment is curious because hardly anything goes fallow in Delphos. This town is a farming community, so it has been somewhat immune to Rust Belt manufacturing decline.

Defunct

I didn’t peer into the windows of this little building. If I had, maybe I’d have caught a glimpse of a white-shirted man sitting a desk with an Underwood typewriter and a black rotary telephone. When the phone would ring, he’d hope it’d be a prospective client and not a claim for a tractor that had taken a tumble.

I imagine such a scene because my mother once told me that some hauntings are impressions of the living. Think of the house you grew up in or the place where you worked your first job. If someone thinks such a place is haunted, perhaps it is because they saw an image of you flicker past.

I used to work in a freezer at night. Actually, I still work at the same establishment, just different hours and a different part of the business. Anyway, some of my co-workers have told me that they still see me (for just a split second, of course) walking down one of the freezer aisles.

Layered

I don’t like taking pictures with my phone. Compared to the clarity I enjoy with my DSLR cameras, my phone’s lens seems a distant last resort. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve tried my best to see its limitations as an opportunity for growth. The capacity to compose a good picture and to capture unexpected moments is essential to photography. There is no reason why I can’t accomplish those two goals with my phone camera.

Last weekend I took this picture while gazing up at the canopy of a forest dominated with sugar maples:

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Had I used my DSLR, I doubt I would have opted for a wide angle that showed all the layers of change in this little patch of forest. There would have been little green in my telephoto shot. In using my phone, I could only opt for the wide angle, which proved to be the best vantage point in this scene.

Layered

Anticipation

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I rarely eat dessert after dinner. This evening I ordered ice cream at dinner because today is my birthday. No matter how old I get, I still get a thrill of anticipation over my birthday.

This week’s photo challenge is Waiting. When that dessert appeared in front of me, I wondered how long I could wait to dig into it. I was able to stall just long enough to take this picture.

Cold Pop

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Today I spotted a man who looked like a cross between Sammy Hagar and Gallagher the watermelon-splitting comedian. Really, he had Sammy’s crinkled “I Can’t Drive 55” hairdo and Gallagher’s mustache. His face equally resembled both of these 80’s icons. Oddly enough, he looked young enough to have been born after they peaked in popularity.

This corner pop machine looks to have the vintage of a time when almost everyone would have known who Gallagher was, yet no man would have wanted to hear that he looked like him.

I admit that some of my mental math that determines resemblance is a little faulty. Last year I saw a long-haired young man with a Van Dyke beard, and I privately called him Flemish Jesus. From the shoulders up, he really looked like what I’d imagine a Little Dutch Masters portrait of Jesus might look like.

Corner