I look upon disused machinery with a special interest,

Free from the oil, care and  maintenance.

 

In them I can see the the designer at hes drawing board,

 

Then the red hot metal coming out of the foundry, The army of workers the rivets, Hot sparks

 

steam, pouring hot molten metal,

 

Then after workshop and manufacturer there was life on field  rail, sea, or road,

 

Here now in front of my lens quite abandoned like a mule to old for work.

 

The reds and browns of rust bursting out of the once gleaming paint work, They now stand

 

silent and still , Moss and lichen finds a home and adds to the pastel shades,

 

 

There is in my eyes something quite compelling in the old bent unconnected tubes and wires

 

and the patterns made by light.

 

And something strangely beautiful in the colours of paint and metal left to the rigors of sun, rain,

 

heat, extreme cold and all that the elements can throw at them.

 one click on thumbnail to enlarge