When I stayed at my grandmother's house a couple of weeks ago, I asked if we could visit a small piece of land next to their neighborhood. It is full of antiqued houses and a cabin and each building on the property is stuffed with furniture from a myriad of time periods.
The birds were chirping as we picked our way through overgrown grass and wildflowers that bobbed their heads, tickled by our heels. The light bathed us in an aura of gold as we wandered, curiosity filling our heads as our eyes darted from one interesting sight to another.
It almost felt like summer. Like freedom.
|just your everyday average bathtub... in the middle of the woods...|
You have to wonder, you know. Who lived there? Who has family memories and tragedies and happy moments that happened in these houses? Why did they leave, leaving all of their furniture and things behind?
History is a fantastic thing - full of secrets that could go unknown for hundreds of years.
|my grandparents. how cute are they?|
There's just something about walking around an old house, smelling the almost overpowering scent of honeysuckle and green grass, during the golden hour. Lovely.
There was also an old trailer filled with goodness-knows-what.
What are some of your favorite places?