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The wooden grain elevator in the former town of Farrow, Alberta (seen here as it appeared in 2008), apparently burned to the ground in late December, 2011. It was predeceased by every other building once remaining in the town, the last few of which were demolished a year previously. Farrow now lies fallow, its ashes scattered by the wind.

View my photos of Farrow

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There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

-- Emily Dickinson

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...has consisted mostly of the westerly Chinook sort this year, and has therefore been unseasonably warm. I'm not complaining.

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A storm crow, blown out to sea by the unforgiving maelstrom of its namesake, lost, exhausted and failing, looked down at the black void of water and endless night below itself for what it thought would be the final time. And there, almost innocuous amid the thrusting current: a shape — bobbing, tossing, fighting the waves and the sucking depths in much the same way the drained bird was fighting gravity.

Read the rest at: www.entropyandcatharsis.com/words/storm-crow

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