The Old Stone Wall, sits way out in the deep woods, it would seem quite forgotten now, no more sheep or cows to contain, no boundary to mark. It is a beautiful thing in its own right, a work of art, tumbled together in a way that seems haphazard, but is not. It has stood for a long time where it is, and time and weather and seasons and nature and the foibles of human beings hold no interest for it. It just is.