Hello. I'm sure by now that you've noticed that I am fond of rural life on farms. This painting was inspired by a photograph. Where I come from in N.C., as you ride down the twisty roads, many a gray and decaying building appears on both sides. Some are old barns, some are smokehouses, others are family dwellings. Often they sit in the middle of fields with corn, soybeans and cotton growing as close to the dwelling as the farmer and the plow could get. As my mother and I ride by the houses, she names them for the families who built them, raised children in them and then either moved away or built newer houses. She'll speak of the children as she knew them in school and tell tales of playing basketball outdoors on dirt courts, or of pranks they played on their teachers. The contrast between her vivid recollections and the broken down dwellings is stark. My mother holds the history in her heart and mind. I think that is fortunate for the folks she knew.
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