Since I’m frequently around rivers, I’m frequently around bridges. On the back roads old bridges add flair to a journey like homemade whipped cream on pumpkin pie. The contrast of architecture and nature, along with the passing of time make old bridges ever more interesting. Graffiti, rust, weathered wood, and vacated routes are like wrinkles and gray hairs. To me a sign of maturity, a right of passage, a mark of beauty gracing the human intrusion. Too, oxidation and decay are just nature’s way of reminding us that not only are we a part of nature, but the things we build are just temporary bridges between the tame and untamed.