Once upon a time, there was a barn atop the hill behind our house. It was a great old beast of indeterminate age, worn by time, neglect and weather to a fine reminder of a lost age. There it sat—quietly, patiently, staring out over the valley—allowing wildlife to seclude itself safely and photographers to snap away. Then, one night a few years ago, a bolt of lightning took it away, turning the weathered wood into so much tinder and fuel. Now, all that's left are some pictures. 

That's why I take pictures. 

Larger version available for purchase here: http://bacn.me/10s0