There were several working farms on the route as well in this region dominated by agriculture. But there were almost as many ancient barns and abandoned sheds. Not to mention the occasional virtual ghost town, lying as if discarded on the side of Highway 6. I don’t know how to make those look or sound beautiful without romanticizing what has surely been some loss or suffering that happened far removed from my experiences; so I didn’t take any photos of those towns.
This old cabin (house?) defines the West for me: the settlers came westward, built and settled – conquered, even – and thrived. Now, their contemporary counterparts – farmers, ranchers, and other rural denizens – seem to be moving away and dying off more quickly than they came. But those who stay are a unique breed of strong.