As a writer and an artist I am always listening to or reading stories as well as telling stories myself. One of my favorite childhood memories is sitting with my mom or dad or with my grandmother, all snug and cozy and listening to them read. I would get lost in the stories they told me and in later years I would listen to the stories of their childhoods in the same sort of way.
When I see old falling down ramshackle houses or barns I can't help but wonder what the stories are that they could tell. It is easy to make up stories about them but what were their real stories?
Imagine living in this log cabin overlooking this sight...who do you suppose lives there? A rancher? A sheep herder? An artist or writer? A hermit? A horse trainer?
And what about this old place? Who used to sit on the porch drinking tea or lemonade? Who made the curtains that now hang in tatters in the window? Who raised the chickens and hoed the kitchen garden? How many children called this old place home?
It is not hard to find inspiration for stories when I have all this richness to look at and ponder....
What kind of story are you thinking of right now after looking at these pictures?
4 comments:
Oh my, you're catching the transporting disease...I love old buildings, barns, windows, doors...not just the patina, but the wonderment of what all have seen through history.
LOL, whyte! I've had it for years ;-) say hi to Daytona for me...
My favorite art class was traversing the countryside sketching abandoned barns and houses.
I too, always wondered what stories they held.
Have a lovely week, Mary.
xoSherry
beautiful photographs!
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