Archive for the ‘Farms’ Category

It was the fog that woke me, trailing insistent fingers against my bedroom window, urging me to wake up.

I resisted, burrowed deeper into my bed, but one glimpse of those foggy tendrils grabbed me, pulled me out of my cocoon, and sent me in search of my camera.

Because everyone wants to be wandering around in the fields an hour before sunrise, right?

As usual, I really didn’t know what I was looking for and the first three or four dozen shots I took proved that. I kept walking. Then, I started to play with the ribbons of fog as they wound through the trees and fields.

And then fog around the abandoned farm site.

And then, the first peachy hues of the approaching sun.

And then… And then…

An oddly-stacked gallery from that morning walk, but I found that I was most happy with slices of the landscape, rather than full-on traditional ratios. Please click on any image to view the shots in a gallery format.

One more shot to share. I was out for a little more than an hour and returned home pretty satisfied with my morning’s work. Came in through the back patio doors, put down my camera, took off my wet shoes…and glanced back outside to see this display over my flower garden:


Sunrise plus lingering fog, all filtered through the trees, equals WOW!


I thought this image should stand alone.


6 images

Yesterday’s outbuilding unveiled.


In this series, the fog is a visible presence.





If you would like to place this building in context, the final shot is from a post I did in early August.


Next time: Hey! What about that big red building?

Continuing with an up-close look at the weathered surface of the barn. Given my fondness for all things red, photographing this building was a real treat.




20141029_5566 drama2

For the next shot, this is how it appears as a part of the barn, which in and of itself is pretty amazing:


Now, with a one-quarter rotation…voila! Rug or wall-hanging.

wall hanging

And finally, for some reason, the east side of the main barn decided to follow its own bliss for colors, but if you look carefully, there is a lovely conga line of red nail heads dancing across the top of the image. 


 I’ve been dragging my feet a little on processing pictures from the Old Barn. I don’t want to be too hasty with the shots I have because I won’t get the opportunity to go back for more. With pieces of the roof now flying off in heavy winds,  the owners have nixed an homage to The Wizard of Oz with Wabi Sabi appearing in the role of “Body under the House.”

I am totally on board with their thinking.

In considering how to logically group the pictures, I’ve decided on:

Texture. Windows and sills. Then metal findings, like hinges, nails, random chunks of metal. Doors.


This first group is all about the wood.


 Because the wood is so old, the surface is often very soft, like fabric, and I find it easy to see these pieces as hangings or fiber art pieces.





Your friend, Wabi Sabi, is a serial monogamist, falling in love with this bridge, that sawmill and the other deserted barn. But always just one pretty face at a time. Seventeenth-century poet Sir John Suckling wasn’t exactly talking about me…but darned close.


Out upon it, I have lov’d
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.


Time shall molt away his wings
Ere he shall discover
In such whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.


But the spite on’t is, no praise
Is due at all to me:
Love with me had made no stays
Had it any been but she.


Had it any been but she
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.      


One last visit to the Barn ‘O Wonderful this morning.

My good friend, Karen, tossed the first stanza of “Constant Lover” at me the last time I was hyperventilating over a site–the Abandoned Sawmill, I think. Long, long ago, we were most fortunate to have an extraordinary woman for our high school English teacher.  Mrs. Kelly insisted that her students memorize poetry…lots of it. You had to make an appointment with her and then recite your lines one on one. She would let us sing our poems if we wished and this is how I know that Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” can be sung to the melody of “Hernanado’s Hideaway” and ANYTHING by Emily Dickinson works nicely with the melody from “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”



ny card

I put on so many layers of winter clothing this afternoon that I looked like the Michelin Man as I waddled down the road with my camera, bound for the Deserted Farm Around the Corner. I’d intended to get some lovely red barn/white snow shots, but was distracted by the peeling paint just inside one of the barns.






I did NOT see that coming. Generally, I approach December with a clenched jaw and when I can no longer stand it, I crawl under my desk and wait for it all to pass. This year, December was a good one and I truly loved every moment of it. However, I have not posted anything for two weeks nor have I been keeping up with my favorite blogs. (Yours is my favorite. You know that, right? And I am going right from here over to see what you have been doing.)

Happy Holidays to all of you who visit the Wabi Sabi blog and share insightful, witty reflections and comments…or just visit,  shake your head and move on. I do so enjoy your company and am grateful that you choose to spend a few minutes with me each week.

The Aissen Tree Farm in Pilson as seen through the lens of Wednesday’s glorious fog.






Far from the beaches, traffic and ice cream-slurping tourists, a peek at the interior of Door County.

other door