Heather, my beshert.

A mighty welcome from my father in law's herd of Dexter Cattle.

Looking out the back door during light snowfall in early April.

Horse at the farm practicing social distancing. The horse knows.

This abandoned barn, tucked into the woods looks perfectly normal, and quite happy to still be standing along its un-leafed friends.

This abandoned home is all too common in this region of upstate New York, once thriving with family-owned dairy farms.

A retired sugarhouse along a county road. The quiet symmetry is calming.

A branded horn cover belonging to a junked Chevy truck.

Heather and I came upon a field of abandoned cars and trucks, featuring this relic Cadillac, tucked into the woods up here.

This Chevy, with logo on the dash still intact. Name is more durable than the product.

Old, rusted Cadillac, buried under tires. Junked, yet peaceful, all the same.

Something dystopian gazing through to the other side of this shattered windshield.

NRA decal demonstrating dystopian brand durability.

Steering wheel, junked truck. Got some good light on it.

This old, abandoned Chevy, with insignia in the speedometer. Solid branding.

Long-emptied oil cans found in an abandoned barn.

There was something very beautiful about this tangled pallet just up into the wood from the house. The way the light was playing with it. A peacefully tangled pallet.

Abandoned house still flying the flag.

Multiple reflections through the window of an abandoned barn Heather and I came upon during a morning walk.

Abandoned garage, a relic from a once thriving dairy farm.

Private Property signs are a common sight in rural America, oftentimes bearing nothing but wilderness.

Raindrops and reflection on the glass door of an abandoned barn. Nothing more to say.

Back seat of a junked Lincoln Continental through window glass, reflection in play.

West 4th Street subway station in the West Village. Never so empty, or so clean.

The legendary Joyce Theater declaring that "we will dance again," Chelsea, NYC.

The landmark Empire Diner, dark and lonely. No eggs today. Chelsea, NYC.

Almost deserted driveway into the World Trade Center complex, Financial District, NYC.

Subway steps with no traffic, Downtown, NYC.

Desolated downtown scene built for people, Financial District, NYC.

Mannequin on a coffee break while Fifth Avenue sleeps, NYC.

Empty Tesla showroom, Meatpacking District, NYC.

Looking into a closed cafe with window reflection, Hudson Yards, NYC.

Uptown train taking essential workers to and fro, Downtown, NYC.

Midtown Manhattan subway station, usually teeming with riders. Not on this day.

Closed apparel shop window with meat trucks reflecting, a common juxtaposition in the Meatpacking District, NYC.

Matching mannequins doing their part keeping an empty Fifth Avenue alive, Midtown NYC.

Storefront mannequin looking radiant on a deserted Fifth Avenue, NYC.

Storefront mannequin keeping watch over an empty Meatpacking District, NYC.

Hard working mannequins displayed over a deserted Fifth Avenue, Manhattan.

Silhouette of storefront mannequin overlooking desolate Fifth Avenue, NYC.

The gals who work for the shuttered Guess store on Fifth Avenue standing tall, Midtown NYC.

Storefront mannequin looking out from the bankrupt Neiman Marcus window, Hudson Yards, NYC.

Vandalized window of The Gap store, mannequin in trash can. Fifth Avenue, NYC.

Shattered storefront window of looted Anthropologie store on 5th Avenue, NYC.

Shattered door to a downtown CitiBank after a night of vandalism.

Revolution on the march. Fifth Avenue, NYC.

Telling juxtaposition of signage and police helmets, waiting for protest, Union Square, NYC.

Contrasting messaging on 14th Street, Union Square, NYC.

Revolution can be beautiful. Union Square, NYC.

Unexpected, new leaders emerge during revolution. Union Square, NYC.