Not my horse, but really old paint on an old tank at an abandoned old steel mill that's now a museum (Sloss Furnaces.) Reminds me a little of elephant skin. Sloss is very near downtown Birmingham, just blocks from the city center, and when I moved here in 1971 it was still operating, belching fire into the night sky, like an angry dragon chained to the railroad tracks. It is said to be haunted by the ghosts of some of the workers who died there, and has been the subject of several TV shows about hauntings. It doesn't scare me, but I don't think I'll go out there in the dark by myself anytime soon.
All the parents, except my son, sit on the steps and wait while their children play in the huge sandbox outside the children's area at the Perot Museum of Nature and Science in Dallas. See more weekend reflections here.
. . . but you can never leave. I'm not sure what this little weed flower is, but it definitely looks like it wants to be the last place some little bug checks in . . . and out. It looks like a pitcher plant of some sort, but the flower is tiny, about 3/8 inch long, and the plant is huge, 3 feet tall. It's hard to believe that big old plant could get much nourishment from ingesting the tiny bugs that could get caught in the little flower, but maybe they are just dessert. Pretty though.