Thursday, November 5, 2009
Maybe on our next walk we'll ford the creek and poke around this gorgeous barn. We had miles to go, so we forged on.
The next barn was close to the road, and we dove into the detail on its old sides.
I'm not sure what this material originally was--rubberized cloth? but it had aged into a fascinating, fungal texture.
Oh, I loved this sign. You can't make a sign like this. Time has to make it. Time, and some yahoos to shoot it for you.
There were some Herefords just across the fork. Chet was all a-tremble, but at almost five years old, he knows better than to go after them.
No leash necessary, just a warning word. Good boy, Chet. Keep moving.
Mether, someday I may go round those cattle up when you are not looking. But now you are looking. And you are right. I am not a cattle dog. I am a chiptymunk dog. Until someday when you are not looking.
A field daisy defies the frost. I can't remember seeing a fall with so many blooming daisies.
Are you coming, Mether? Or are you going to crouch down by the flollers all day?
Yes, Chet Baker, but I have a few more flollers to crouch by. These milkweed pods will do nicely.
It is tricky keeping the horizon straight when you're crouching. Or maybe I'm drunk on rural beauty. Or maybe it's that these barns are all off true by more than a few degrees. Everybody's staggering here.
Not least me and Shila, at the end of the five or six miles. But there's more to come. We're only a quarter of the way up the road.
For those who are still wondering, wabi-sabi is a Japanese concept of beauty through age, weathering, imperfection, impermanence. It is a scarred and twisted bonsai, a wise and knowing face, a beat-up ballerina's foot, an old Ohio barn.