Meandering

It is one of my favorite words. Wandering.  Aimlessly.  There is nothing like meandering.  Discovering a new or familiar place.  Exploring new territories.  Uncovering. 

A barn with a tin roof, rusted from days gone by.  Unfinished  windows, doors.  Maybe a tractor in the yard.  Sometimes it is open space, pristine.  Pastures. 

Sometimes spotting a sustainably built home
but you never know just what you will find when you meander. 
I particularly like the stone fences.  They were built when there was no lumber due to the fact,  lumber fences would rot with the New England snows. 

In the 19th century, these fences were inspected to ensure they were structurally sound. Limestone, granite or gneiss were used as these rocks were abundant in New England.  They were left over when the glaciers melted in New England.

Off to meander.   Again.