In a rural setting a short distance south of Indianapolis, there lies amongst the gravel roads and cornfields a small cemetery. This ancient resting place is along one of my favorite bike routes, and makes a great place to rest, stretch, and think. Directly across from the graves there is a line of trees, long ago cut and left to weather away their remaining days overlooking the somber hill.I have felt a presence in these trees as I rode past, a chill wind on a hot summer day. I imagine the wind blowing over the hollowed remains, creating a dissonant chord, an ode to the long departed Nolins.
Amazing photos, Dave! You really captured the spirits in these shots. And I don't know if it's your camera work or my own warped mind, but each composition really brings out the facial structure in each of these subjects.
ReplyDeleteDon't linger around these fellows after dusk.
I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who sees the faces. There is a section of road at the other end of the field where there are about a dozen of these stately denizens in a row.
ReplyDeleteI pedal a bit faster as I pass them by.
Yes,...I see the faces. I'm sure they talk to one another in the moonlight, these old guardians. Wonderful perspective here and sensitivity to such things. Really enjoyed this. Betty
ReplyDeleteI love old wood for the textures and color. And yes! I saw the faces immediately too. All dead trees have them, but not everyone sees them.
ReplyDeleteAnd no need to pedal faster. They would probably enjoy your company for a bit. No one likes to be ignored and forgotten.
Thanks for sharing your photos with us! You captured their essence.
My great great great grandfather, John Parr and other family members have called Nolin home for over 150 years. Thanks for the great story.
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