Once this was a lively place filled with activity and sounds of daily work and play. Today the bustle and sounds were replaced by an eerie silence; a silence broken only by the wind that whispered through the tall grass and weeds that grew everywhere, like a victorious army surrounding it's conquered foe.

If this old house could only talk, what tales it would tell and what secrets it could reveal. But it can only stand in silence, patiently waiting for the elements of nature to take their toll. Like an old soldier who has fought a good fight, it has lived out it's years of glory and can only wait to gracefully and humbly return to the unforgiving and unrelenting dust of its mother, the earth.

By the summer of 1984, the old house was empty and abandoned. I wrote these lines after a visit to the old home place that summer.