One of my favorite haunts, on my horseback rides to the river, has been the Ghost farm. That link takes you back to autumn of 2004, when I first discovered it.
I remember when old Mrs. Danner lived in this house. Her son , who inherited the place upon her death, died of cancer last year.
I loved looking at the old buildings, wondering what sort of creatures they used to shelter.
Blue would stand patiently while I got down on hands and knees to photograph something special.
Like this broken teacup in the leaves:
Today, here's what the ghost farmhouse looks like:
Every shed, every building, has been burned.
Two things make me feel somewhat better: On a recent trip to the ghost farm, I decided to bring the teacup home and put it in my cabin in the woods. Happy memories.
And Old Mrs. Danner's forsythia still blooms beside the road.