I remember driving around the countryside as a child taking what my parents called "the scenic route". We'd drive and drive with the windows down, maybe make a pit stop at a country market where we'd buy hunks of cheese and ripe plums and commence to eat them with our bare hands while we continued to drive.
I remember driving with my best friend's parents sometimes too. We got to cruise the country roads in a butter yellow vintage convertible that was big enough that we would slide into each other in the back seat when we turned a corner. Loved that feeling. The wind flowing through our long curly teenage 1980's hair, the sun shining down on us, the fields rolling by.
I remember the barns we'd see. Those pieces of art looming tall and majestic against the turquoise skies. The barns that housed farm machinery and cows and horses. Those barns that make my mind go crazy with wonderment.
It was a beautiful day today, and I decided to drive down a country road to visit a friend who I knew would be working hard getting ready for Springfield at the workshop. I've made this trip many times and I've oogled over this chippy, broken structure.
Definitely thinking a photo shoot must be planned here.