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I've taken quite a few pictures of this field during different times of the year because I'm fascinated by the few little trees that sit there in the middle. I like the view best when the crops are harvested because it makes them look so lonely and desolate out there all alone. Once upon a time there were many, many more thickets and small woods here in the delta, but the greed of the lumber industry and the farmers has cleared them all away. It's so sad.
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I remember the old barn at Grandma and Grandpa's house; it was a lot like this one. I can recall the dank, dusty, darkness of it when you first entered in out of the sunshine. The groaning and creaking sounds it made when the wind was blowing outside. I remember climbing up into the loft although we were forbidden for fear we'd fall though in some places. And who can forget the acidic smell of the lime sprinkled potatoes stored in the old corn cribs during the Winter. Grandpa kept so many great treasures on his work bench.
