Old houses, especially abandoned ones, hold a fascination for me. I guess it’s the mystery surrounding each one: when was it built, who lived there, what were their lives like?
Even in its current condition, look how stately this old house seems. Proud, even though it’s in disrepair, and mostly likely, soon to be demolished. I can imagine children playing on the porch and in the yard in the summertime. And in the winter, waking in the morning and looking out to see if it snowed during the night.
This one was obviously added onto through the years, maybe as more children were born. Or maybe elderly parents needed to move in. Think of the storms this old house has weathered. Think of how cold it was in the winter.
My mother and her family lived in old houses when they were children. My aunt once told me that some winter mornings, she awoke to find snow on her bed.
The chimney on this old house makes me think of the fireplace, and children waiting for Santa to come on Christmas Eve. He probably put fruit and nuts in their stockings and maybe left one toy for each of them. Such a simpler time.
My Daddy was born in this little red house. Since it’s no longer standing, I’m glad I have this photo. I took this from the window of my car years ago. See the radio antenna? This house was in the little town I grew up in, so it was a familiar sight. I wonder if Daddy ever found snow on his bed?
This was my Grandma’s house*. She operated a little country store in the front and lived in the back. Since my Mom and I lived nearby, we visited her everyday.
My grandparents moved here in their later years. Being the parents of twelve children, it seems that someone in the family was always visiting. I hope one day to find a picture of it that was taken when she lived there.
*photos by my sister-in-law, Carolyn.