This morning I had an appointment with the new neurologist. I’d love to give up the lot of them, except my primary care would turn on me, and I do like her. She loves to scroll her computer and say “Your cardiologist says….”, or “when did you last see the eye doctor?” She stunned me when I asked if anyone would ever learn the blood flow through my calcified carotid and she said “Oh, just a minute. That came with the scan from George Washington…”
Standard procedure for unconscious patients seems to include a head to toe scan, these days. I’ve had several doctors look at the scan results and answer a question for me.
I left for the appointment and found snow. I went into the valley, crossed the river, came up the other side into Fairlawn, and found a blizzard. Well, heavy snow. The ground is warm, the roads are warm, it won’t stick. It’s simply the fact of it falling. Annoying, as Laura would say. And certainly not the day for pictures.
I took the two pictures above three years ago, 2014. This is the old Black farm, on Wetmore. The National Park has renamed it Briar Rose Farm. That's because they have allowed to farm house to be totally overgrown by brambles, so they invent a new history for it.
Yesterday: the gate is open, the chain and lock no longer on the gate.
The upper loft door is open to the weather, as is the lower door. The barn needs painted to protect the wood.
The gutter no longer has a downspout. Vegetation is overtaking the barn. The roof still needs painted.
Whoops, there's the downspout.
The foundation does seem recently sealed.
I tried this picture six ways to breakfast. I love this weed. You can make out the stem, but the large flower head, gone to seed, is hard to make out. For 360 degrees around the picture the landscape was too brown to show off the flower head.
A nice fall tree, further down the road.