For anyone living on an old farmstead, barbed wire 'growing' out of tree trunks can be a familiar site.
Or barbed wire randomly sticking up out of the ground where there is no memory of a fence.
Or barbed wire 'wreaths' hanging off decrepit, mossy fence posts that are rotting into the ground.
I find it interesting to envision the way this farm might have looked 70-some years ago when my Great Uncle was growing up here. Back when all that barbed wire was functioning with purpose, and it was a matter of pride to have these acres fenced with it. Gives me something to think about when I run across a new tangle of the spiky stuff.