The collar was in the dark recesses of the barn along with a myriad of other farm implements, some so obsolete that they were totally unfamiliar to me. The collar I recognized for what it was. The shaft of morning light sent a diagonal ray of light across the stiffened leather that was irresistible. I shot a picture and knew that later this would be the makings of a painting, maybe. As the overused remark says, "If it could only talk..." A lot of stories here.
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