For a boy and a Dad and a white-tail buck, the world was young, and green, and everything was as it should have been back in the late 1940’s.
Yesterday morning this picture appeared before me during my travels, as though it had been sent from back then, and I photographed it, not as now and new, but as old and reminiscent of those times, those good times, those gentle and magical times that will never be again.
As a boy with my Dad, as a young man, as a father with a son of my own, I roamed and hunted these woods and fields and thought they would never go away, but times have changed and values have changed. There are survey flags and machines now in the field beyond the woods, and the power of the rich stranger, his new fence lines and asphalt, bricks and mortar and “Private Property”, “Keep Out”, “No Trespassing”, “more money for me”, are the new values of this land. Those who really loved this place are no longer here and this is the last time it will ever look this way.