Silos breaching the skyline, Large ****** of the landscape. The smells of the barnyard are pungent.. Although not unpleasant, really, rather pleasant.
These old farms all along this winding road, They've stood tall for a century or two. Their clap boardΒ Β and stone attest to a time When what was built was built to last.
The pictures taken don't quite take in the charm, The nobility, the steadfastness, the breath of a solid life People seem as scarce as hens teeth, not a soul to be seen. Just horses lambs cows and cats and dogs.