Part 3 - Lovely, Rural Pickle Street

I'd chanced onto Pickle Street on my way from Winthrop to Potsdam and found there a bounty of agricultural charm, a photographer's dream:

Racial segregation? A tightly knit group of black cows stayed far away from the solitary brown cow:

Barns, farm machinery, pickup trucks, outbuildings, barns - the stuff of modern farming:

This house had farm equipment parked right up to the rural mailbox and I loved the railing around the front porch:

This old place was falling into ruin, a slowly disappearing reminder of a disappearing past:

And a magnificent homestead behind well kept lawns and giant Maples:

These brown cows grazed right up next to the road and seemed curious about my picture taking:

A very western looking gate to a hay field, bordered on the other side by Spruces. Two bird houses on the uprights gave me the idea that its owner loved natural beauty. Only the modern telephone pole gave it away as current day scenery:

Two more old barns, side by side, with roses in bloom along the road:

And a modern, suburban looking home. It was clear to me that people were buying property along the road and building new homes where they too could enjoy the finest of rural life:

Another old barn which also seemed to act as a portal into a fairy tale field, perhaps a field where Wind In The Willows might have been staged:

A magnificent stone wall being overgrown by hedgerow. And yet there was still more to Pickle Street. I'll post the final chapter, Part 4, tomorrow: