Which incidentally was exactly what I was just doing. Standing in the bathroom, having a smoke with the window open. It’s so mild out today. Last night it was all wet and foggy, this morning almost 1/2 the snow is gone.
the noises out my window
the distant bark of dogs
the snowmobiles hum
You are a distant scar
Wrote that just now in my journal. That window is a passage way of sorts, a rectangular opening out to the air, the forest, the ferns in summer and the marshmallow snow this morning. The garden out front I actually created from two perspectives. One of which was the view from the bathroom window. There has been many a moment standing at that window, gazing out, thinking so many thoughts, at different times over the last 3 1/2 years. Good thoughts, bad thoughts, angry ones, irrational thoughts. Unrealistic wishes to the spirits. Pondering nothingness, quietness. Listening to the sound of the coyotes with a kill – some nights you can hear the screams and struggles of their prey. It is haunting and defines how sustenance must be had by all. Life is what it is.
From that window you look out onto the entrance to our little neverland. This morning the fresh air was still, so noises carry in strange directions. At this time of year you can always hear the hum of the snowmobiles in the distance. People come from far and wide to roam the trails around Grey & Bruce County. There are places here that are only accessible by either snowmobile or four-wheeler. Old roads and abandoned buildings dot the landscape. Old broken down barns, foundations and old rocky boundaries lie all along the rural ways in this region. Many have tried to conquer those hidden places and thickly forested, rocky landscapes, but wild life and the viney weeds eventually have their way. Twisting and turning and prying open old windows, making new passage ways for critters; and it is abandoned no more.
I have gathered together some of my shots of these abandoned places. These dilapidated homesteads and old forgotten barns are sometimes more a testament to the quality of the workmanship, than the quality of the homesteader.
All windows are passage ways … to new beginnings, changed perspectives and abandoned delusions. Standing at my window every morning gives me perspective, as I suck on my cylinder of sin.
You wonder looking at these old places whose face looked out those windows? Where did they go? Maybe they had new dreams to pursue. We sometimes have to leave things behind in order to prevent us from sagging in the middle, so to speak. Or coughing a lung up; I gotta quit those nasty things.
So, here’s to passage ways and changed perspectives.