I try to imagine the farmer walking away for the last time, leaving his equipment to rest. Did he know that dozens of years later it would still be awaiting his return now surrounded by a young forest? Where is he resting?
A pair of waiting "plows."
How long has it been since it made furrows for new growth?
A cotton picker silently rusts as a forest of hardwoods grows around it.
These were in a woods I walked thru.