Confluence of plants and pipes marking one center of the ALO garden.
Green mailbox within. Postal portal to Oz?
The Hill and The Carpet House again. LINK
The Sphere behind the Town Mall. Mysterious! Edna (wife) also visited the location this day and took photos. She was likewise impressed. In the words of Red Dwarf’s Cat, “What is it?” And: repeat.
Nearby cliffs.
Sphere, cliffs, and rocky beach. I still don’t have a name for this area, but its obviously centered by that sphere. Edna speculates that it might have been off a post, perhaps marking the entrance to a driveway. She supposes that’s why there are 2 of them. I’m still sticking with my alien originating theory, however. 🙂
And now we come in this blog to another brand new place I already *do* have a name for. I think. Right now I’m calling it The Plateau of Raw Art. Explanations soon on that. It’s fascinating place just west of the official Blue Mtn. Urban Landscape. Or is it actually a part of this Landscape? Anyway, the plateau displays the remains of a deserted high school area, including a football stadium, 2 baseball fields, and a number of tennis courts. The high school itself was demolished, with only a grassy field remaining. In the below photo we look from the edge of one of the baseball diamonds across this very field. I kind of like the way the telephone pole obscures the top of a distant mountain peak from this angle.
Nearby is this configuration of objects. Sure looks like some kind of raw art to me (!). But who is the artist? I’m guessing that this might be the product of a skateboarder on a break from his regular hobby…
… because nearby is an unofficial skateboard park just beyond the football field, marked by a colorful mural. What an amazing backdrop for such a place! There were perhaps a half dozen skaters using the facility on this Saturday afternoon. No whooping and hollaring, however, to my relief. Just standard skateboarding noises. Thump, rumble… thump, thump. Rumble.
Deserted football stands, home side.
Listen closely and you can hear the ghostly clomps of track runners past.
Sunklands 