Boston.com has an interesting photo gallery up of the renovations HWL et al. are making to Fenway in the off-season. I chose this one (over a picture of a construction worker brandishing a shovel as a bat in what will be the new underground batting cage, which was a close second), because I admire the use of light and the fact that the photographer was able to capture the differing textures of the new brick (to the left) on Fenway's facade and the old (to the right).
Obviously, if Fenway isn't renovated at all, it'll just collapse into ruins eventually. And the park I know now would be unfamiliar to someone from the 40's or 50's, even though it is essentially the same structure. But I feel a strange tug at my heart when I look at this picture. The bright new brick is visual proof that the 2004 season is over, that a time is coming, someday, when no one at whatever new incarnation of Fenway still stands will remember 2004, or the season, personally; and in a way I want Fenway to keep as many of her scars, her faded brick, her deep green character as possible. There is a whisper of the eternal in that place.