Don't tell anyone, but this is one of my favorite places in the world. The abandoned and overgrown fields of the city industrial park allowed me over the years to keep a veritable herd of Irish setters exercised and afforded them the opportunity to indulge in that breed's compulsion to cover terrain at an astonishing rate. In his prime, Connor didn't so much run as fly close to the ground.
All of them are gone now. The short arc of their lives moved through here, where they spent many of their happiest moments, and continued through age, infirmity, illness, pain, and death. The land pictured here has been purchased, fenced, and turned into a horse pasture, which is a beauty of another sort, but not the wild, overgrown beauty that we knew in our time. And maybe that's as it should be.