Yesterday I was in a grand funk, blame it on hormones or being cooped up in the same area too long- I played out my re-occurring run away fantasy and got on my bike "cajun knuckle" and rode down the hill at speeds so fast I was glad I remembered my helmet. As always, I never get that far because curiosity consumes me faster and harder then the actual distance I wish I could go. Not even around two curves something caught my eye... a mowed lawn in front an abandoned trailer with a road behind it leading to who knows what. Of course I took my bike off the paved road and up the muddy rocky drive, then leaned it up against the red gate I was about to jump.
It was obvious no one came through that road often, it had that lifeless feeling - at the same time I made up fanciful stories I would have to tell some angry farmer with a big gun when he caught me wondering around his land like a lost sheep. "Hello Sir, I apologize but I think PMS made me do it, can we be friends?!"
No one was there, but I could see some kind of large domesticated animals were at some point, fresh manure and hoof prints where in the cracked mud. I didn't expect what I did come upon - I thought maybe an old barn might be back there, but didn't know a tiny piece of history lay hidden the way trash does under summer weeds. It was a glorious old hand built cabin!
This is the kind of cabin that dreams, timelines, and horror movies are made of - so beautiful I am afraid to touch it, so creepy I couldn't stop walking towards it. I could see that no one lived there while plainly seeing in my imagination how someone actually HAD lived there. A whole life I wish could be written out clearly on the walls for me to read.
Peaking inside the broken windows I saw the remnants of the last inhabitant, coils from old rusted beds, collapsing wooden furniture, and the ever so creepy thing people put babies in that has the wheels and they can "walk" before they can walk while in it. The one in this house looked as old as me, from the 70's- but so haggard and forgotten so long I wondered who that baby is now... but wondered more how in the hec that baby pushed itself along those crooked wooden floor planks.
Such a perfect place, such a good foundation, such old weathered wood- it made me feel an old excitement I have felt since I was little sneaking into empty houses and wishing to make it my very own. The whole entire "add on" part of the cabin was not in the best shape, and I imagined re-working it into a glassed in green house section - taking the old wood from the siding and making that the ceiling in the main cabin.
I noticed the poor man sort of innovation and desperation, to be nailing up tiny pieces of wood to cover the holes in the original wood where the winter air was probably blowing in. It's endearing, and also so very real, so close to how tons of people without enough money feel right now, knowing the winter is coming and the economy is not coming with it.
Behind the cabin sits this huge weeping willow tree, growing out of a small creek. It's magical.
On my way out ( to other places to trespass), this is what I saw... I like that everything cycles back into nature.