I feel fortunate to have some good neighbors.
Nearly all of the people who live around here give a friendly wave when they walk or drive by. There are probably a dozen homes around mine, small places tucked here and there into the woods. My neighbors and I are at the end of a country road. The only people who come out here are those who live here, or those who are lost.
I guess I must be known as "The Guy Who Takes Pictures." My neighbors see me out with my camera, usually at sunrise or sunset, looking toward the trees and the clouds. Often my neighbors are out as well; they’re splitting firewood or working in their garden or just sitting on the porch, and they too are watching the sky. “Nice time to take pictures!” my neighbors yell to me.
Yesterday morning as the sun was about to rise, I walked down the lane that leads toward my house. It had snowed overnight and the trees, pastures, houses and barns were blanketed in beautiful winter white. Amazing clouds filled the sky over the red barn where, most every spring, my friends Clint and Cindi host a neighborhood picnic. It’s a very cool event. My neighbors and I come out of our houses in the woods. We put aside garden chores for the day. We eat burgers and brownies. Clint invites some of his musician friends and there is fiddlin’ into the night.
People are friendly out here, yes, but this is, after all, a rural area. Folks respect one-another’s privacy. Clint and Cindi’s barn picnic gives neighbors a chance to visit and socialize.
Standing out in the snow yesterday, I guess my mind wandered. Even as my eyes and my camera were focused on winter, my brain was hearing fiddle music.
