Day 59 of 100, northern Jutland, Denmark
I see the country around me through the filter of Flemming’s memory. I’d heard so much about this land, and how it backdrops the Jensen family history, that even before I came here for the first time, I could already smell the wet, black dirt after a drizzle, picture the ancient, sturdy farm houses dotting the rolling landscape at intervals.
He has pictures of the family farm made at the turn of the last century, where the family, the help and the animals – particularly cows and horses – were duly scrubbed and arranged pleasingly in front of the family home for a portrait.
I always wondered that farming folk would do something like that back then – wrangle the animals for a photo. I don’t know, and can’t imagine. But I live in an era where taking photos (among just about everything else) is such a convenience, it’s more of an effort not to pull out that ubiquitous palm sized slab of glass and metal to snap one. I normally hate shooting with my phone – a clear sign of not being young anymore is how much difficulty I have in handling a small object that has such sophisticated function, because I refuse to practice with it like the gnarly old Luddite I’m becoming – but it was what I had with me, and the light was so good when we did our usual loop.