Coquina and I went off for a late afternoon walk.

We went out back, up the hill, down into the valley, across the brook, along the horse paddock fences, and then through the woods to Middle Road.

Paddock fence shadows

We turned left at Panhandle Road, and then right, down a dirt road towards the old farm, with old woods to the right of us. There are a lot of memories back here, but I won’t digress. We came into one of the fields.

After wandering a field, what is there to do?

Go to another.

We admired the field, and the distant crows.

The crows did not admire us, not even from a distance. They noisily absquatulated.

We turned, and turned again after rejecting a roadside route home. Too much traffic.

On to another field, one marked with traffic, but of a different kind.

This field’s traffic is marked by sheep trails.

The sky was big.

The light was strong.

Field, farm, and sky.

The farm has been here for centuries now.

The barn’s bones are old.

One of these days I’ll go inside, but that’s another day.

We headed home.

The soon-to-be-sunset-light shone on the barns’ west ends,

— on weathered wood, faded reds, and rusts.

2 responses to “Afield

  1. Interesting. I, too – just a couple days ago, went north into the farmlands of Wayne Co. to visit the Mitchell farms of my childhood. Had a nice conversation with the man who lives on my grandparents’ last farm and visited the pine trees my grandmother planted alongside the driveway in
    the early ’50s. I drove alongside the field where my brother and our cousins played by the wide creek that cuts through it…watching the tumblebugs roll their cow-manure balls along to vague destinations, where we caught minnows and crawdads, built stone dams to create pools deep enough to swim in and rode the great willows that leaned over the creek. The willows are gone now – but I suspect the tumblebugs, minnows and crawdads still flourish.

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