Last month, I took a stroll up the small valley behind my apartment building. There are no farmers around because it’s winter and it’s a dead end so no city maniacs are using it as a shortcut to get to the highway. I made a few photographs on my walk and, as I write this, I wonder if the little valley has a name. Maybe I can ask a farmer when the weather warms up and they come out to prepare their fields.
As I started walking into the valley, I turned around and made a photo of my apartment complex.
I guess that this sign once said, “Do not enter”. Now, even without words, it still works as a means of communication. Or maybe it once said, “Welcome to my Field.” I don’t know.
I don’t know what kind of trees these are and I don’t know what this section of pipe is doing there.
Same trees, different view.
This was the end of the road. The blank area at the top of the sign looks like it might have had something written on it long ago.
I’m looking forward to walking up this valley in the spring and summer, when everything isn’t brown.