The pear farmer

Our road has a history that is steeped in the farming tradition, long before it was claimed by the vineyards. We have lived on an apple orchard that was probably over 100 years old. Eric's grandpa harvested hay. There are remnants of Italian plums as well. And the man up the road, John, had a pear orchard.
I loved his little old house and the old unkempt orchard. Always a cat on the porch and a vintage antennae on the roof. I have a VanDyke that I did a few years ago of the house, that I love.
He died some months ago and I was very sad. I think he was approaching 100 and lived by himself, with his daughter and her husband coming by daily to care for him so that he could stay in his house.
The family let me go in and take a few pictures.  I saw his favorite hats. I saw his old claw foot tub. His numerous clocks all telling different times. And his windows, each looking directly out onto a tree. Like they were planted for that reason.
These images are to honor John and the beauty he brought to us.

sigh