Farm Scene on Loveville Road

There is a burnt cabin on Loveville Road that I visit every few weeks. It is a bare ruin, really, and I'm not sure why but I am drawn back again and again. To watch it fall down, I guess. To remind myself that nothing lasts, so that I remember to seize each day.

The light is very good there in the morning, and I once watched a heron depart from the little stream that flows by the old barn. It sailed past the watchful, quiet cows and into the sky; I don't know where . . .

On this morning, a huge, dark bank of clouds lifted from the horizon and parted at just the right moment. The dry cornstalks rustled under a light breeze. A chunky shaft of golden light shone out like a beacon, painting everything with gold: the farm scene, the foliage, the road, the cows, and me.

I don't recommend you stand where I did to take this picture, but truth be told, it's a quiet road, with little traffic. And the view is quite good from there. The soundtrack is the Pretenders, with Middle of the Road.