There used to be more farms here, but many of these became uncompetitive and were bought out by larger operations. Sometimes the houses remain, derelict, being slowly reclaimed by nature; I looked at one today.
It wasn't large, a simple one story house, though it had two substantial stone chimneys, topped off with brick. I peered through the dirty windows, mindful of snakes, and saw that the furniture was still in place and the kitchen shelves still stocked. It was like a decaying time capsule that someone had left, expecting to return.
And not that long ago. The rusting Impala in front of the house was last registered in 2005, though an old plow had fallen into disuse long before that. It was becoming part of tree, which had grown up around it.
There was a well, too, and you could see water flowing at its bottom. If the grid goes down I'll know where to go, if the ghosts don't mind company.
I left that place thinking about Detroit; chances are, the chimneys would have been in use.
There's a moral to this, if you care to draw it.
LSP
