I love old houses. And, I love to drive on the backroads to see what I will find. The worn wood, the wind-swept paint, the crumbling brick, the broken windows, the sagging structures... all of it makes me wonder, "Who built this? What happened there? Who lived there through the years? Were there children playing in the yard? Who were the last to live in it?" So many stories the creaking floorboards and crackling walls could tell if only they could talk. Yes, if only they could talk.
Right off the main path sat this house, and Lydia, Tasha, and I noticed it on the way to the Sacred Harp singing last month. So, we couldn't wait to stop and take a closer look on our way back home. And, I couldn't help myself from taking a peek inside.
So run down, and yet so beautiful at the same time. I wish I had the money and know-how to restore old buildings. I feel at home in them.