Reflecting on the year quickly fading, perhaps, reflecting life as it is.
I couldn’t stop to photograph today but got this one several years ago, a sunset behind this abandoned barn.
The house is gone now, simply fallen to pieces or pulled down by Virginia Creeper vines, a nice big, square four-bedroom farmhouse on a rise with a nice view at a bend in the road adjacent to a developed neighborhood. No one had lived there for decades, but if it had ever gone for sale, I was ready. It never did.
Barns tend to stand a lot longer than houses. They are built to carry much more weight and stress, animals, equipment, materials, feed, and they don’t go down easily. The house is gone but the barn lives on. Someone cuts the grass, but I’ve always wondered at the story.
I visit a shop and have merchandise in an old barn, unheated and uninsulated, the sun streaming in through the occasional windows and the narrowing boards of the walls. Here the sun shines on hand-hewn oak worn to a sheen with age.
The pond is still frozen but the snow is melting into the soil, the flattened grasses hold the sprouts of this year’s pastures and hayfields washed by bright late winter sun.