HOME | DD

Description
Oil on plywood, 16" x 11 3/4"

11/30/2015

This will be the 8th installment to my "Forgotten Heritage" series. Its title is "Along a Cold Country Road". Somewhere along a mountain back-road, maybe in the Ozarks, maybe in the Appalachians or the Catskills, or possibly somewhere in the Rockies...it doesn't really matter...the road to our past leads us to a place we remember. But it is not as it once was. We smile at the memories of the times we experienced. Then we shake our heads as the cold mountain air stings our nose and the snow crunches under foot.

The warmth of our car is captured inside it, but the chill of where we came from invades our soul and pinches us once we step out to survey the roadside stop.

This isn't how we remembered it. The old gas pump is rusted, instead of bright red. The hose is missing. The station is falling down and being reclaimed by the forest around it. Like us, the people who were once here are gone...we have just stopped off for a moment to "feel" the ghosts of our heritage.

As we climb back in our car to leave, the music on the radio catches our attention and John Denver sings hauntingly "Country Road, take me home. To the place I belong...."

Description
Oil on plywood, 16" x 11 3/4"

11/30/2015

This will be the 8th installment to my "Forgotten Heritage" series. Its title is "Along a Cold Country Road". Somewhere along a mountain back-road, maybe in the Ozarks, maybe in the Appalachians or the Catskills, or possibly somewhere in the Rockies...it doesn't really matter...the road to our past leads us to a place we remember. But it is not as it once was. We smile at the memories of the times we experienced. Then we shake our heads as the cold mountain air stings our nose and the snow crunches under foot.

The warmth of our car is captured inside it, but the chill of where we came from invades our soul and pinches us once we step out to survey the roadside stop.

This isn't how we remembered it. The old gas pump is rusted, instead of bright red. The hose is missing. The station is falling down and being reclaimed by the forest around it. Like us, the people who were once here are gone...we have just stopped off for a moment to "feel" the ghosts of our heritage.

As we climb back in our car to leave, the music on the radio catches our attention and John Denver sings hauntingly "Country Road, take me home. To the place I belong...."