This site has turned into the daily issues of PPSM, EPSM in a horse I dreamed of having for most of my life. The daily grind of tending to 6 acres in a archaic manner, with little attention, time, or money. We all have our dreams, this land, these horses, are all a part of the big picture for me. Trying to build my paradise on the ridge of flat top mountain. This is my site!
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Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Today started out well enough. I got through my chores; but on my way home from the barn for the first time in a week, I stopped to take some more pictures. While I have yet to post even 1/100th of what I have taken, I find it is the act of taking the pictures that inspires me to write.
So to continue my drive to the barn in description… up Hollywood Drive up this incredible little road there is an old corn crib that catches my attention each day, but no one has been at the house in order for me to stop and ask permission to take pictures. My parents taught me to never trespass, regardless it was not allowed, some things in my life have not changed.
This little corn crib is different every day, the rolling fog, the lazy sun, the trees around it. While my family didn’t have an existing corn crib by design we did have a building we housed all our yearly corn for the cattle. This little building brings back all those memories of walking into our corn crib and looking around to see all the wondrous tools no longer used, old, rusty, and lonely in my mind.
This corn crib I pass each day makes my mind wonder of old cattle, the day I got Spirit, the OLD Tobacco barn and its lovely smell. One of my favorite smells, the smell of dark fire tobacco in the fall. Days of playing in the old barn on Aunt Mary’s place, no longer there, but still vivid in my mind. How the road divided into pastures and a round about road so used the old truck had a hard time leaning hard to one side and eventually retired in my days. I wonder what ever came about that old road? The property long sold off, new houses, people who have no idea of its rich history. The property that housed the only mill in the area, the old family houses long gone and barely remembered at all. How sad the houses were compared to what now stands on that land.
It is amazing what driving by an old corn crib can do for your mind, memories, senses, and mood. One lone piece that puts my mind at ease and takes me back to riding in the truck with my Pawpaw when ever he allowed me to tag along. Both I and what ever dog he had at the time would wait at full attention, not being able to ask to go; as Friend (the first dog I remember him having) couldn't ask and I wasn't allowed. There were plenty of times he didn't take either of us, plenty of times only the dog was allowed, but when I went, we always took the dog with us. To me it only ment we were going to have more fun, I had someone (the dog) to run around with when we stopped.