Brass Valley: The Fall of an American Industry

Brass Valley: The Fall of an American Industry
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Sunday, April 22, 2007

The Three Sisters of Rabbit Hill


Yesterday evening I finally got access to the field directly below Tanner's Rabbit Hill Farm. Up until now it has been too wet and messy, and I have been peeking around bushes and between clumps of trees from one field over, looking for the best clear shots of the angles I want. It's still messy, and now the insects are just appearing, newly hatched mosquitos and the clouds of Mayflies that announce the less pleasant parts of spring. This field is below the farmstead; it is where all the runoff from the cows winter pen drains, but it is a new angle on old friends, and nothing could have kept me out on such a gorgeous evening..

Frances commented on yesterday's post, "For you it always seems to be the music of intersecting geometric forms. For me, it is always the unstated questions, the secrets: What might be going on in the fastness of those barns? Where is the access road to that courtyard in the center that will lead me to them? The focal point is on that inaccessible place, that intriguing space, and the people are stilled in time." What a terrific comment to set me thinking. In fact, an essential part of my attraction to New England farmsteads is the mystery of time and mortality. I'm not sure I've taken a photo that says it better than today's post. Sadly, the eldest sister is already stooped, twisted, and arthirtic. Still, the loft window still joins in song.

Can you find two of these barn's in yesterday's photo?