A couple of Saturdays ago, my husband took me and our children driving around a town called Southington. It is one of the oldest towns in Connecticut where a lot of its buildings were built in 1700’s. On the way while we were sightseeing, I saw a barn in the middle of nowhere. The snow was still covering the farmland where it stood and the barn just looked too good to miss to be photographed. But I didn’t bring my camera and I didn’t want to take pictures with my cellphone. So the next day, we came back again and I specifically asked my husband to go to see the barn. It was hard to find a parking spot beside the road, but eventually we found some space near the farm. I walked about 1/4 mile from where we parked and as soon as I got closer to the farm, I was intrigued by the scenery. It was just wonderful!
There were some old trees on the outer side of the farm close to the road. There were leafless and one tree in particular looked mythical, as if an old man with scraggly beard, its thin branches reaching out in uniform. The barn that I saw looked abandoned. The dark-red paint on it looked faded. The other buildings looked derelict too. The farm was empty and I felt sorry for it. One time this farm must be heaving with some cows, chickens, goats, pigs, and maybe several rows of vegetable plants or fruits. One time the farm was thriving with harvest in the spring and summer, and seeding in the fall. Now, it’s just the distant memories that left on empty chicken coops and a lonely barn in a vast land that was covered in snow. Despite the sadness that I felt looking at the barn and the farm, I was also delighted by the breathtaking winter scenery that was depicted there. It was such a humble moment to me.