On Machines and Mortality: Life and Death in the Country
March 12, 2016
farm, horse burial, crocus, death, farm, guthrie, machines, mortality Leave a comment
Guthrie lived with us for so long, that I really can’t recall when he first showed up. One day there were just a couple of ponies, and he was one of them. Guthrie was mostly harmless, though his escape artist tendencies were a pain in the ass. He always made a beeline to the chicken feed or the grain bin.
Guthrie was 42 or 44, which is pretty old for a pony. He did not have many teeth, so we fed him soft hay and grain every day, or rather Amy did. He seemed pretty solid this winter, but last week took an unexpected dive, kind of controlled flight into terrain.
So we had a pony to bury, and out here that calls for a machine.
So bye Guthrie, thanks for being part of our lives for all those years. You made your final escape.
I’m not dead yet! No wait.
November 6, 2013
photography, who knows bones, catacombs, death, gem, Paris, photography, skulls Leave a comment