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There is something about abandoned places that speak to me, especially so when those places are farms and ranches.  Its a rare road trip where I don't end up standing by the side of the road at the fence line studying these places- Arkansas hills and flood plains, Oklahoma panhandle, New Mexico about anywhere. I want to know if the business failed and forced them out, or maybe success allowed the moving to a newer home. Did the kids move away and their parents eventually fade away? Was the place just absorbed into larger operations as so many were in the last century?

I can never quite put my finger on what my feelings are standing there in the echos of other people's lives. Partially nostalgic, a bit voyeuristic maybe, curious for sure. Almost always, one can't help but wonder what their lives were like. The hopes, dreams, joys, disappointments. These are all largely lost to time, although maybe there are grandsons and granddaughters out there who know. Maybe the odd local old timer. Standing at the fence row there is no knowing, you hope someone will stop to investigate what you are up to with your camera and paint rig and tell you. Nobody ever does though

This adobe is at Octate, New Mexico. The mesa rises in the distance, and the fields are dotted with collapsing adobes like this one. Down the road just a bit, at the junction is an old store with collapsing front porch. Apparently, at one time the store was a meeting place for the region, but no more. This adobe is surely showing its age. Part of the roof is gone and you can see through to the other side now and the corners have been rubbed away by cattle needing a scratch. With the roof gone, this piece of history will soon be gone as well. Time marches on.