For a long, long time--years even--I've admired this house which sits back off of Route 198 just past Dutton on the left if you're headed out of the county. It draws me in like you would not believe, and I'm really not sure why.
It's old, yes, and I love old. But there is nothing particularly striking about it. The house is rather plain and unadorned, always has been. About the only thing that changes are the colors of the trees, the grass, and the fields surrounding the house. Right now, the lush, green soybeans provide a stark contrast to the dull, weather-worn white and gray. Pretty soon, though, those beans will turn brown and be harvested; the leaves will drop and dry up, leaving the trees looking as withered and dead as the house.
The windows are covered, so no light ever gets inside. The old dirt driveway which once led people straight to the door is now choked with grass. The house is much smaller than most of the two-story farmhouses which are so prevalent here.
And yet this house stands out and beckons to me very loudly. I wish I knew why.
Note: CBW had been wanting to take a picture of this house for
Her heart pounded out of her chest when she realized there really was no place to turn around unless she backed directly onto the highway. Yadda yadda yadda, everything turned out just fine, and CBW did not have to offer the explanation she
There was a very legitimate reason I had to pull in there. I just can't remember what it was.
Is there a particular place or building or house you're drawn to for no obvious reason? Why do you think we're drawn to particular places? What would you have told a representative of the law if he had pulled up behind you as you stood with one foot in the car, the other on the ground, door open, taking a picture of somebody else's house?