The most southern barn of the 3 is resigned to its fate. Broken and hemorrhaging hay, whatever energy it once possessed now seems spent. As solid as the ladder to the loft is, there is no destination at the other end. The March air has a late day chill - Michael & I quietly pack our gear and head for home.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
I don't know which of our three barns is the oldest but it appears they are destined to end their lives at the same time. The middle brother of the 3 appears the strongest - reluctantly yielding a keyhole view of its dark interior. And around one corner, a red boat.
Friday, March 15, 2013
With nothing better to do on an overcast March day, Keating & I went on a little photo excursion. Not far into Ohio, three old poplar barns sit in a state of decay - awaiting sure destruction from the blunt end of a dozer blade. Before they are gone, it seemed fitting that some parts be preserved: a sagging red door, a blue boat and light that only comes from age.