via flickr.com
Here we are with the Farmhouse ghost.
Spending time in a house that was started in 1722 is amazing. (This is the new part from 1812). The vibe, the creaking, the whole feel of the place where my Yankee blood was generated is evocative. My Dad always goes out and cuts a tree from the property so it's always a little scraggly.
[This is actually from my keeping the Canon out in the cold too long while sledding. A little moisture was caught between the lens and filter....]
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