I continued my driving tour of Heath Hill Road (see Part 1, yesterday). The scenery was lovely and couldn't have been more rural:
There were small cottages with outhouses:
Forests:
And partially harvested corn fields, backed up by woodlands:
There were Winterberry Hollies along the edges of the road, brightening up the landscape with their scarlet fruit:
Rain was approaching and the hardwoods looked mysterious with their bare limbs in the air and their feet beneath a carpet of brassy leaves:
This home looked bundled up for winter and a dog barked at me as I snapped the photo:
I passed a field of corn stubble, with another farm set down in an adjoining valley and mountains off in the distance:
As I neared the highway, I snapped a picture of these Aspens with their yellow leaves:
At the end of Heath Hill Road, I turned onto the small highway toward home and took one last photo of this old, abandoned farm house. How could I not? It set me to wondering of its history, the families who had farmed there and the hardy spirit of this area:
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