As I write this, there's a white tail doe bedded down under an oak tree about 30 yards away. The doe is probably the one in the photo. I assume if she had a fawn this year the fawn would be with her, or she'd be with it.
We did have a doe and fawn wander through the backyard the other day, so we know some are out there. Franco, the rescue dog, behaved like an idiot and barked at them, scaring them off. He was probably frustrated because he couldn't herd them. That would be something to see, a border collie herding white tails? I don't think so.
On the way home Sunday we came through Washington County. I had the preferred camera with me and remembered to stop and take some photos of this cool, weathered old barn. There's something about old barns that really pleases me, probably because I don't have to maintain them.
The weathered wood, the rustic style, puts me in mind of Vermont, or Maine, or western Massachusetts, "home" to this transplanted New Englander. One of my favorite writers, and one of the best essayist we've ever produced, Mr. E. B. White (also the author of Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, and The Trumpet of the Swan) also had a thing for old barns and livestock. Those of us who care about old barns, farms, spiders and writing are in good company.
The Spider’s Web ( A Natural History)
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider’s web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
E.B. White
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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