To me, farmscapes are not just about beautiful barns, golden light off of the hay, cows grazing peacefully, although they are about all of those things. Real farms are beautiful but are also raw wounds sometimes, in that farmers can’t afford to throw anything away, and cannibalize everything. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and to me, this farm detritus is beautiful in its own way, offering its own distinct collors, and feelings, like the way this abandoned old farm truck captures the snow and the cold. It is beautiful to me.

Went to Christmas week service in Argyle this morning to hear my friend Steve McLean preach through laryngitis and no voice. Didn’t phase him a bit. Joyous hymn singing, nice to be in the church.

Working on a short story, dozing a bit, hoping for a peaceful Christmas week. Thinking about the idea of the now. If we are okay for now, we are okay. I am going to take the next few months and focus on my short stories and fiction. I am trying to take it easy on my photographer’s elbow, but I couldn’t resist heading out in the bitter cold for some winterscapes. My arm didn’t like it. Holed up with the dogs. Maria gets home late from work on Sundays, so Sundays are a work day for me.