Day: December 17, 2014

Old barns never die, really, they just collapse in heavy snow, or fall apart slowly,

they tend to be forgotten or demolished by developers or malls or split-levels and apartments,

they are usually made with plastic now, or aluminum. They are not considered efficient any longer, there

are cheaper and more efficient ways to store hay, barns do not seem important now, it is a more disposable time,

magic and romance are not considered efficient.

I think the old barns die with dignity, they are ghosts and spirits and totems of our past, our memory, our strength.

Change is such an important part of human life, it brings good and bad things, yet there are so many times when it simply hurts.

A Northeaster came through this week, it lasted three days and left a mess. And it left its card on Macmillan Road.

It is easy enough to love a farm on a summer evening, the breeze bending the tall grass in the pasture, the animals out grazing, finding their own food. It is not so easy on a gloomy and misty winter morning, the ground covered in ice and slush, fog and mist hovering like a blanket. Still, there is beauty and routine and rythm to a farm, even on a gloomy day. Red in his vigilant crouch, Maria shoveling out the manure in the barn, the sheep at their feeder, the donkeys at theirs. A symmetry, beautiful to see also.

Today spoke to me, I saw the soul of a gloomy day, I wondered how to capture the world around me, my job as a photographer, and this abandoned old farmhouse nearby just appeared to help me out. I found t his image very beautiful in it’s own way.