New Lane

I drove along New Lane today where nothing is really new at all. Time turns slow, like the wheels on a tractor. A farmer bobs along to the beat of his own drum behind the wheel of a plow on the one lane road between two small towns. Painted signs advertise crawlers for sale at the end of a long dusty driveway. The line of the river can be traced by the treetops and an apple orchard stretches on row after row. At five o'clock the sun shines through the slats in a barn so old the only thing holding it up is the bales of hay inside. And everywhere I look the landscape of golds and greens is begging to be photographed.