Took a little blog-break there for a quick web-moment to heal mineself, heal mine children, plant some flowers and to visit this little nugget nestled in the rolling slopes (technically I don’t think they can be called hills when you’re able to see over them) of Nebraska.
It was the middle of the day, making for a real lack of drama in the sky and no shadows, so I imagined what it might look like if a storm approached at sunset:
I loved the feel of this house. I could almost picture it alone on the prairie with a wagon hitched to horses out front. No golf course would be running next to it and the new housing units nearby with 2.5 baths and central air units would be the stuff of someone’s fantastical imagination.
Part of me wonders if it might have been a school way back then. That steeple-ish looking part could have held a bell or, I guess it could even have been a church. There was a cement walk to the front door with the year 1969 on it. Regardless, I’m confident it was standing here on the prairie long before 1969.
The tree reaching to the right is pointing in the direction of a nearby lake and looks like it’s just begging for a tire swing. I’ll bet it could tell a story or two about the kids who used to climb it too.
This view is actually of the back door. There is a short brick wall around this area. You can just see the orange brick on the left under the dead tree. Clearly, this wall is newer than the house, and it corrals a door that’s been unboarded. People have been in and out of this place fairly recently leaving behind clothes and blankets. I wonder if it’s some kind of party house or if some poor indigent family is taking refuge here. While I’m curious to know who’s been using it, I think that’s a question best answered by my imagination.