Watch Your Step
There’s old and then there’s old.
And then there’s fair. As in Fair River Farm. Which is, unless I’ve been getting my history mixed up, the unofficial name gracing a homestead as old as one can imagine and deep in the heart of Mississippi. Which is also a step back in time, to put it mildly.
Of all the photos you’re about to see, I’m sorry to say I hadn’t taken one of the house itself. But I will tomorrow since I’m sure we’ll be heading back to the farm more than once.
Today I took a walk with Beta Male and visited, once again, the old bus having antiquated itself into legend half a century ago. A fact confirmed over dinner this evening (which consisted of a sweet potato—my very first.)
Some shots of the expedition (still not taken with the camera I will soon possess (if anyone’s been wondering):
It was a city bus and its owners gave it to Mr. Kees fifty years ago, as I mentioned.
It’s sat in the same spot for that long, serving, according to Cute Redhead, as a one-time infirmary for a Girl Scout camp. I think the colors make a terrific photo.
Love this shot. Cobwebs as old as the hills, blue-cast and blowing in the breeze like curtains.
Back at the house, from the back room, came music out of this ancient Magnavox. Still plays, albeit none too impressively. Nevertheless, there’s something very nostalgic about hearing a phonograph player deliver Mancini with a hiss-hiss-ticking the youngers have no category for.
And for you collectors out there? Brace yourselves: this is just one part of one shelf of one corner of the farm house upon which rests, in memoriam, every (and I mean every) National Geographic ever printed. Treasure trove.
Finally (and I don’t expect the attempt at a panoramic shot from my Not The Camera I’ll Soon Have quite does the job), a shot from inside the farmhouse, near the fire where I sat down, stopped stepping, started reading, and took in the Nothing.
For a change.
Just the sort of step I don’t mind watching.
Totally dig this! I WILL be a farmer when I grow up. Serriously, for Christmas I got four books from Joel Salatin. But let me get this right, its after Christmas and we STILL have to put up with your no-camera-whinning? When is your frickin birthday, I dont think I can wait that long.