The Farm

I’m laying in bed, it’s 3a and I can hear the train horn in the distance. I’m 65 and I’ve heard that same crossing horn for almost my whole life. I have edited about two hundred plus photographs down to about sixty and those reflect most of the elements of our family farm. Our trip is over. All of my photography is done, our trip complete and all that is left is the the three hour drive to Nashville, then the flight back to Phoenix. 

This has been a quick trip, my aunt’s memorial, she passed back in October, she was the last layer of family. Now we own the farm.  It’s my brother and I and his son, the three of us traveling together. We are having the best time, like kids again fucking around, but we are big kids now, old men. His son looks like a local, like he belongs here and that makes me happy.

Some of the pictures are of our farm, others are of our travels around the area. Troy, Union City, Newbern, Tatumville and Yorkville, other towns we breezed through, Kenton, Dyer, Mason Hall, I’m a big city kid but I sure have a lot of country in me.

I’ve helped my Grandad with the farm in the summers of my youth. I have helped plant saplings that now, I can’t get my arms around. That is one of the things that make me realize just how old I am. 

I think I’ll try to make it another decade if my health holds. When I was 18, I didn’t think I would make it to 25, at 25 to 30 and on to 50. Hang gliding was my biggest risk, now the stack of old calendars works against me. Looking at our relatives graves, the dates reminds me of the three deaths.

But I’m still alive and I’m going to live as long as I know how…

For those of you that want to know what camera and lens, I used my Nikon D780, with a AF Nikkor 18mm f2.8 D and a AF-S Nikkor 24-120mm f4 G ED VR FX.