Had a romp about my granmother’s property one day and thought to use my Motorola Razer to capture somethings. Later editted in MS picture editor or something.
I like how phones can get down into something so easily.
On this homestead property the sun sets like that remembered from a scene in a favorite book. A storybook perhaps with a troll. As children we were told of strange creatures that interacted with man at various times yet somehow managed to find a secret lair in these woods. Unless my family lied to me all my life, there is an indian graveyard to the rear of property.
Grandma, in her 90s, would talk to a bear from her balcony. It would stand on its back legs and rest its paws against the wall below her. She had her ways. Gone for a year or so at 102. Her house and property always had a mystical feel. It still does—and even moreso.