I photographed this old house a few months ago. I have many old abandoned houses in my photo files. Melancholy thoughts always enter my mind when I see a deserted old house. I always wish that I knew the history of the family or families that once lived in that house. Why did they leave this house and where did their next adventure lead them?
Thoughts ran through my mind as I stood and looked at the scene around this old house.
It looks as if no one will ever come back to this old house where nobody lives. This abandoned house needed the love and constant care of a family to help it survive. The roof or the doors did not make this house grand, but the strong hands that gave it care. Worn and rotting boards show this house was made of wood by craftsmen generations ago. Now this place once called home stands – cold, empty, abandoned and totally alone. The paint is cracked, birds live in the chimney and the weeds are higher than the porch. If you listen to the wind blowing through the broken window panes and open door; you can still hear the voices of the wonderful family this old house once sheltered. The old shade tree still stands where folks once sat and shared stories with family and friends. I stand quietly and think of the life this old house once knew. I think of the stories the wind could tell as it drifted through the rooms. I think of the life the people of this house once lived; in this once glorious home where they struggled, flourished, loved, and possibly died.