There's this bridge in Iowa that I used to look at when I was a child . . . it was down the dirt road from my grandmother's house . . . I wasn't allowed to go to this bridge by myself, so I rarely saw it unless after begging my father he would take a quick ride down there for me. It wasn't often. I forgot about this bridge until a couple of weeks ago. I visited my grandmother's farm, now my aunt's farm and went down to that old bridge with my brother and our families. We took tons of photos of the bridge and the railroad tracks. The children had so much fun discovering old animals bones on the railroad tracks and collecting rusted railroad nails and such. It was a great hour and I now have fabulous memories saved in the hundreds of photos that I took standing on those old railroad tracks that I used to long to walk on as a child.
This photo is of my brother and his son walking up the steep valley . . . the prop being this fabulous, almost-forgotten, old bridge that I love so much.