Barns and Baker in the Snow

Shila and I had been trying to get together for weeks. Months. We kept deciding we had other stuff taking precedence, which is a sign of overmaturity. We were in the process of deciding to bag a planned walk on a fine snowy Sunday (there were taxes to be done and houses to be cleaned, yawwwn) when the conversation got more involved and Shila suddenly said, "I'm coming out there."

I squealed with delight at having my prosaic and dopey plans changed for me, and began scurrying around gathering lenses and gloves and vests and snacks. There were a few places we could go, but there was one place in particular I wanted Shila to see. My abandoned farmstead on the hill, a bit under two miles distant. It would be a nice walk. The sky was lead and the snow was whiter than white and still falling.

Chet, of course, would come along, wearing his Woolrich letter sweater. He lettered in Handsome, and also in Cute. And in Chipmunks.

I wanted some pictures of this beautiful fresh snow, which was still falling as we walked. If winter is going to drag on into March, by gum I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. 

Chet marked some little bluestem

and kicked up a storm of snow

and investigated the edge of a barn with his newly graying dog thong showing

A rubber horse froze in mid-gallop

and I liked the line of the gutter going down the side of the barn

and also the way the snow-covered roof disappeared into the white sky no matter what I did with the exposure.

The whole thing, very Currier and Ives, Chet very Orvis or LL Bean, so jaunty in his little jacket in the snow. I couldn't stop shooting my pup.

this is not the end, not by a long shot.

More Baker and Barns to come.