I imagine most people discover the Geigertown Central Railroad Museum the same way that I did, by driving down Geigertown Road and noticing a collection of train cars off to the side.

To explain why the trains are here, we should begin with local train enthusiast D. J. Shirey.

Hello, and welcome to my reflection on my second month of participation in 52 Frames, a creative exercise in photography.

This month’s challenges ranged from the cinematic to sunsets. How did I fare?

This post follows directly on from the last one, describing some very hastily planned travel in Western Europe in the summer of 2018. For context, see the previous posts.

I’ve always preferred taking the stairs to taking elevators.

An elevator might never come, and can move at a lethargic speed if it does.

On foot, however, I can leap with the speed of a gazelle (and none of its grace), arriving to wherever I climb as an undignified, sweaty mess. But, a mess that didn’t have to wait for a stinking elevator.

I booked a bed in a hostel dormitory.

I think I may have tried to book an AirBnb or something, but virtually everything was already booked, and I fortunately realized that the site misleadingly increased my search radius to such a large area that the results it gave were countryside farms, far away from the quick city daytrips I was engaged with.

So, I bought a cheap padlock from the train station convenience store (along with some hair ties), and bounded the steps to a dormitory bed.

I looked at the reviews enough to feel confident that the risk of a bad experience was minimal, but not enough to realize that the hostel was at the top of a multi-story parking garage.

The single elevator, ponderously slow, cramped, and already occupied by motorists.

Up I went.

Throughout 2021, I plan to take part in 52 Frames, a collaborative creative exercise in photography with a weekly challenge, due at 11:59 PM each Sunday. Since there have been five Sunday’s this January, I have had five contributions so far.

I’ve collected them, along with my reflection on each, in this post.

Since the start of 2021, we’ve had a peaceful transition of power, and Joe Biden is now President of the United States.

If the beginnings of 2021 have shown me anything about U.S. politics, it’s that although Democratic party is not nearly as progressive as I would like, I think that recent events have made its precise value very clear.

2020 was an unforgettable year, full of altered plans and misfortune.

I used New Year’s Eve as an excuse to message quite a lot of friends of mine, ask how they were doing, and share good wishes. Wishes that they and their families remained safe and healthy, and that the pandemic gripping the globe would finally get under control.

In early December 2020, my phone buzzed with a message. Someone replied to my suggestion of “maybe going on a scocially-distanced hike” (sic) from months earlier. That weekend, the weather seemed nice, and the arbitrarily chosen meeting point was (for once) closer to me than to my friends.

This would be first day hike on the Appalachian trail, one of the most important hiking routes in the United States. My company would be the inimitable Nik and Andrew, former colleagues. Both of them are connoisseurs of fruit-essenced sparkling water, experts at making strange faces, and brilliant at pointing at things. Andrew’s special skill is consuming vittles.