I did not go back to Everett, the little crossroads where I took this picture two or three weeks ago. I used it in my header for a bit, but could not make the whole picture fit, so here it is again. I like the farm house peeking under the trees, the barn and outbuilding in the center and the trees predominating.
There are so many pictures and so many ways to organize them. Shuffling them between folders I noticed some places must be especial favorites of mine.
Summer Fall Winter Spring, for want of a better caption.
The pond is on the golf course I pass daily, going to work, and this corner is a favorite. In the winter I see deer, in the spring, Canada geese. And golfers, three seasons of the year. When I turn the corner and drive along another side of the golf course I often see golfers, carts parked under the hemlocks, looking in the ditch for lost balls. The golf course is also a cautionary tale. The owner died unexpectedly, at an unreasonably young age (fifties), and intestate. No matter how young or how little you own your biggest gift to heirs is a tidy exit.
I took this picture last winter, to look at the bones of trees. Here is is again today, from the other direction, still looking over its road.
The rest of my round trip, down Quick road and back up Truxell. And remember, all our roads had first names. Quick road had the Quick family farm with acres and acres of orchards.
A farm pond. This pond is much bigger than the usual "dry hydrant" ponds around the township. These provide water for the fire department tankers in an emergency. This pond is so large it has a pump station. Sort of picturesque, but not really. See what I leave out!
And back up Truxell, past the golf course. Charles Truxell was a township trustee in the fifties and sixties. The last picture is an exercise I call "getting under the wire." I like taking pictures without the ubiquitous phone poles and wires, unless they add some dimension. In the farm pond picture they indicate a winding road beyond the fence. In this picture the wire is a distraction. Had I climbed the hill to put the wire behind me, there only would be a lens full of leaves.
Like my new header. I pulled up this page to start typing, and see this is post 500. I'll be darned.