So with rain on the roof and the most amazing NH fall colors waning; with the chickens in, the ducks, the sheep; with November so close and showing its pointed shoulders…why not? Why not a photo and five minutes looking at it? Robert Franks’s Nebraska, 1955…
- Notice the mailbox and how closeup it is. It’s like the loneliness of this place is asking, Please, someone write. Send a letter.
- And two trees? In what, 100 yrs. and but two trees?
- But a telephone pole. Progress progress progress.
- And how the vertical of the mail-box post offsets the vertical of telephone pole.
- And the spacing of the house and outbuildings, checker-like. Does this reflect the builder’s personality? Exact, anal, conservative, a good manager…?
- I keep looking at the mailbox’s letter drop. It’s like eyes. It makes a face. It’s a kind of signature of the life lived here: loved, hated, spent, lost, treasured, returned to, fled from…
- I lived for a while in Colorado. These kinds of homesteads are common in the West. When you look in through a window, there’s stuff to see. Dishes and old magazines. Fox shit. If there’s a windmill, it creaks and you want no more of loneliness ever.