Inside the Old
Inside the buildings on these old farmsteads is where things get left behind. Light crashes through dusty, moth-speckled windows and explodes across the past. Abandoned buildings fill with tumbleweeds after the doors blow off. The floor a sprawl of motors, jacks, and skunk scat compel a careful waltz walk. Strong smelling salves, bought in the sixties, still hope for sore udders. Mouse chewed catalogs shelter small nests that look like piles of confetti. Jumper cables and chargers, extension cords, shovels and brooms; a tableau of everything you need to start up all the old vehicles, and then clean up the mess you will undoubtedly make with them. Shopping lists and harvests tallied on the walls; the mathematic notations of a hard scrabbled life. Listen to the mice scampering across the floor in the haymow. Listen the the glass crack under your foot. Old secrets hang on nails, quietly waiting for their keeper to appear. Stepping back outside I am blind. I wait for my eyes to adjust to the brilliant now.
Click here to view these, and the rest of this photo gallery at your leisure.
Thursday, May 10, 2012 at 01:43PM
Reader Comments (2)
Now you know why I am always poking around in these old places. You never know, when you set something down, when the next time someone will even consider it again. So much personal history.
These pictures are just a hoot. Highly esthetic, although my favorite is the mason jar light bulb cover. I just shudder a bit at the couch next to the grill shot. With tire dangling above. A barn burner for shore!