On the drive to Durango one day, I came upon this old barn sitting right off the highway. Wholly unimpressed by my presence, and giving me only a half–hearted inspection before moving on to other pursuits, three wooly sheep and a skittish alpaca appeared to be its only inhabitants.
They have stories to tell.
They provide shelter for the animals we love, the crops we store, and the tools we need.
They are of this earth in a way few structures are.
With their fences and pastures, they are handsome, pretty, even beautiful.
They are strong, time-tested, still standing despite the odds.
They get the job done – quietly, with no complaints, no drama.
They are all unique, custom-built, with nothing “cookie-cutter” about them.
They are breathtaking in their imperfection, and remind us to take heart in our own.
In their way, they are all-weather friends: steadfast and loyal.
If they could, they would do anything you ask them to.
They are genuine, authentic, and couldn’t put on airs if they wanted to.
They are a cherished (and fast disappearing) part of our history.
They are nearly always the most interesting part of any landscape.
Often built by many hands, they represent an enduring symbol of family and community, and a time when human beings came together as neighbors and worked toward a common goal.
A quiet, pastoral place where time seems to have stopped, and we are grateful for the rest.
Highway 160 East of Durango Colorado United States
The photo was made using a Canon EOS 5D Mark II digital body, an EF 35mm f/1.4L lens, at f/18 for 1/3 second at 100 ISO.