I love old things. Houses and buildings, furniture, books, photos, even old cemeteries. I don’t know why, but I have always had a fascination for them. Driving home for New Year’s weekend, I had to take a different route because of a rock slide closing down part of the interstate. The detour took me north then across before going south. I drove by lots of smaller towns along the way. Small towns have beautiful old homes and buildings. Old churches and schoolhouses. Casual driving along the interstate allowed my gaze to wander over the hillside and glimpse all these old homes.
I wonder what kind of life they had. Some of them you could tell were still taken care of, probably had been in the family for generations. Others were barely standing beneath the weight of winter-dead kudzu. If only I had the time to stop and walk through them. Touch their drooping walls, see the paint or wallpaper peeling away, hear their creaks and moans, wonder what their rooms had witnessed.
I love to look at old barns, too. They make wonderful backdrops when you’re taking pictures. And I saw one that made me laugh – there was a goat, several actually, but one in particular, with his front feet on a fence and his head buried to the neck in a big roll of hay that was still in the barn. Clearly that old barn was still in use.
When I got home, my dad gave me some old things from my great aunt. Really old things. I can’t wait to post pictures here and show them off. Maybe that will be something I work on this afternoon.
What’s your fascination?