Today, for the first time in many months, my doctor said I should take a short walk after she took my stitches out. Build up to it, she said, stay off your feet for just a week more.  The wound can still open. But take a brief walk tonight.

I did; at dusk, I grabbed my Leica and headed out to the barn and the backyard. No hills, bumps, boulders, just grass, and familiar ground. Maria was in her studio, but she wouldn’t have minded. She knows I need to move a bit.

It was beautiful outside, soft and warm, the fall light coming in at a slant, photographer’s light.

I walked into the barn first. I know

As a photographer, I learned that if you want to know everything about the farmer, go into his barn. Barns are a fantastic collection of life, past and present, and history. No actual barn can lie. They are the most honest structures in the world.

They say if you want to capture the soul of a person or animal, take a black and white photo. Lulu is pleased to see me here, and she doesn’t have to beg me for an alfalfa block; she knows she will get one, and she did. She is just saying hi, glad to see you out walking and visiting me.

Donkeys need attention, they are prone to loneliness and brooding.

This may be the loveliest photo of chickens at dusk that I have taken, thanks to my Leica camera and its detail and depth of field. I tossed some mealworms down on the grown, and my leg hurt, so I sat down in Maria’s fiber chair.

I loved the way the light rides off of the chicken’s backs and right out the door.

They co-operated; they were quiet. It was a beautiful first walk for me; I love the farm so much, I never fail to find an image to capture. And next week, I can wander much farther afield.

If I can wake up in the morning, I might do a morning- at-  sunrise walk. There are all kinds of a strange lights, all over the place.