When I see empty buildings, it always makes me wonder what the story is behind the lives, the families, the people that lived here.
This mobile home still there, with lamps and shades and shelves, but all ripped from the walls and fallen.
I am no architect or engineer but it makes me wonder why they built this rocks and wood pieces that makes wonder its stability.
The house almost still standing, but yet, mostly gone.
Farming equipment left behind, covered by grass and oxidized.
At the end of a road, not well traveled.
Now this barn being used by rodents, and owls, and others I am sure.
The gate still swinging with the wind.
Hinges and hooks meant to withstand the rough cold winters and hot summers as well as the strong winds.
The recycler and thrifter in me makes me hope it could be saved, or the materials re-used. But I think this is fine too, I guess. I love the colors and the sight nevertheless. I love it that makes me think of the history and the stories of these places. But it also makes me think of what I might be leaving behind when time comes. And what it will all look like. I am sure there will be people who will be wondering then what all that I am leaving would have meant to me. And so the stories are being built.