I took advantage of the sunshine to collect more old doors for you today in Ayr, Ontario.
During its most prosperous years, the former John Watson Manufacturing Company specialized in the manufacture of agricultural machinery.
Though the company began in the 1840s as Ayr Machinery Works and originally manufactured cast iron pots and stoves, this particular foundry wasn’t built until 1882.
The original structure was an impressive four storeys in height. It suffered a devastating fire in 1920 and the current two-storey structure was rebuilt using material from the original building.
According to the historical plaque mounted on the building, John Watson – like many of the early influential citizens of the area – was Scottish. He was the first reeve of Ayr. His company was in continuous family operation for 127 years.
The layers of paint certainly show the passage of time.
The former factory has been renovated and repurposed, and is now home to several businesses.
Thank you so much for visiting (and for giving me an excuse to hunt for more doors with my camera).
Things that are likely to happen when two little monkeys are jumping on the bed:
- the cats will slink away in a huff, perturbed that they’ll need to find another location for their 6-hour power nap.
- there will be disagreements about which jump to perform next.
- there will be disagreements about whether to jump on three or after three.
- there will be karate chops and cannonballs and all manner of flailing limbs.
- midair poses and facial expressions will strike everyone as enormously funny, especially when reviewed later on the camera’s screen.
- the grown-up in the room will be enjoying this display, but also cringing while she visualizes the ruin of the mattress springs.
- the grown-up in the room will decide that it doesn’t matter because the springs are nearly toast anyway.
- at least one little monkey will fall off and bump its head.
1. Don’t worry, everyone’s okay. Well, except for the mattress springs.
2. Inspired by the WordPress weekly photo challenge: Atop.
My calendar tells me that spring officially arrives today, which means that it (hopefully) won’t be long before this giant wakes from winter slumber to sheathe itself in fresh green foliage.
I drive past this tree regularly. The sight of it is so expected, so familiar, that I’ve come to think of it as “my” tree. In my mind, it has developed a bit of a personality. On wet, overcast days, I think it looks lonely and sad. On summer evenings, it glows in the golden light and I could swear it stands prouder, fuller, taller. Right now, it’s stiff and stubborn and cranky, and the cold has seeped into its branches, making them ache.
It’s funny how we project our own moods and attitudes onto the world around us.
I wonder how long my tree has been standing there – weathering the seasons, sleeping and waking, watching the landscape change and the people come and go. What stories could trees tell if they could speak (and if we knew how to listen)?
The other evening as I was driving by, the sun was low and the light warm, so I finally stopped the car and made a picture. This tree looms large in a field of grasses, but it’s hard to tell from this photo. Next time, I’ll try a wider angle or pay more attention to the sense of scale.
But I’ll wait ’til my tree has gotten dressed for the season (it thinks it looks better in green).
It reached 6 degrees Celsius this afternoon. Perhaps my hibernation period is coming to an end? I left my den today, and I wasn’t the only one who ventured outside.
There are actual human beings in my photos today. Ones that aren’t related to me. But you might have to look closely to find them.