I’ll always wander and take photos of our neighbor’s homestead when we work cows there. I can remember the little fenced yard, the hand pump that brought water to the kitchen sink, serving our plates with fried chicken and sides and then eating outside after a day’s work. That was long ago and the fence and hand pump are gone. The windows broken. The roof collapsing. Now it’s just weathered wood, ruined furniture, and memories.
If you could translate all the creaks and groans of a homestead falling into disrepair think of all the stories you would hear.
Well said!