I was taking a driving tour of the rural area northwest of the farm and especially the little town of Brookdale, New York. I passed by this little pen of curious sheep who watched me closely:
There were several modular homes along the road:
And fine old farm houses:
This old barn had been a giant at one time and its farm appeared to be large and prospering. Had it burned? I didn't see any charred wood. Perhaps it collapsed under the weight of a heavy snowfall:
This much smaller barn appeared to have been converted to a garage but, judging by the unplowed snow, was no longer being used:
Brookdale had lots of old farms with actively used barns and tractors:
A friendly old farm house where I could easily imagine a family gathering for Thanksgiving dinner:
Well kept outbuildings:
Another friendly, comfortable old farm house:
And another small old barn:
There were occasional modern, upscale homes which I assumed where owned by people with good jobs in Massena or Potsdam:
Although we were experiencing an exceptionally mild weekend, there was still evidence of the big ice storm a couple of weeks earlier. Snowy birches arched gracefully alongside the road in many places. It had been unclear exactly at what point I entered the town of Brookdale and it was equally unclear when I left it, but I decided that this was perhaps the spot at which I was leaving Brookdale behind:
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