I sometimes ask myself where the heart of the farm is, and whether I have ever captured it. Sometimes I think it’s Lulu’s Crossing, sometimes the animals at the feeder, but in the late afternoons, when the sun is slanted over the hills, and the shadows of the birch tree cut through the center of the old barn, then I see that this is the center of the farm, it feels like the heart of it, for just a few minutes until the sun moves farther down, and the ghosts of the meadow return to their normal shapes and sizes.

Beauty is everywhere, if you look for it.