The Kennels

A couple of more photos from visiting my grandfolks in the small town of Morton.

Somewhere in the area of 45 to 50 years ago, my grandfather was a hunting dog trainer.

No one in my family really talks to much about the kennels in particular, so I don’t know very much about them past their age an that they look hauntingly lovely now. The kennel and barn sit at the back of my grandparents property. I used to trek out to it as a kid in the summer, during which it involves traveling through many patches of stinging nettles.

Looking down the row of kennels.

 

Immediately looking the other was wheelbarrow long past its prime.

While most all things here are in some state of decay, the sign still looks like it was painted in the last couple years.

If you look at the full size image, you can make out the bush marks.

On a personal note, not that this should be surprising at this point, I love hand painted signs. Even when they are done with the utmost perfection, there’s always a human element that is almost impossible to recreate in a digital format.