Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Camouflage


Here's a tree  which happens to have a  cleverly disguised house underneath it.




Since the only recent photo excursion was the crabbing trip, I'm officially out of fresh photos.

(Officially Out of Fresh Photos is a very uncomfortable label with which I do not care to associate.)

Here are a few shots from about a month ago, before the leaves started sprouting on all the trees.

For extra bemusement amusement, I've decided to tell two stories simultaneously today.  

One is going on in the captions underneath the photos.  The other is obvious.

Let's begin.




Here the tree is raising its arms up in victory.
The tree has self-declared as winner in this endurance/longevity contest.




These first three pictures are of a house in the woods in the general Port Haywood vicinity.

(I think. I really can't remember.)

I love how the house has taken on the color of the tree;

how the house dons full camouflage gear,

as if to say, "There's nothing to see here, folks, keep movin'."




Here, it looks like the house still has a chance.  Perhaps it does.




These last few are of a house down Redart.





This is a different house that appears strong.  Solid.  Sturdy. Hardy.



This treasure sits at an intersection of two exceedingly narrow roads with practically no shoulders.  I pulled over somehow or another, which meant the car was still in the road; leaped across the ditch; and started snapping away.

Until I heard a car approaching.

Then I calmly and confidently walked out of the woods towards my car.  




...Except for the roof and a few minor cosmetic issues out back..



The approaching car (which was actually a truck) had its turn signal on and was slowing down.

Oh no, here we go, I thought.

I was somewhat relieved to see someone I know behind the wheel: the son of my high school track coach.

"Chesapeake Bay Woman?" he asked.

"Yes, it's me. I'm just taking a few pictures of that old house," pointing weakly behind me, without even looking, knowing he wouldn't get it.

"I was wondering what you were doing."  (I get that a lot. It's a polite way of saying that they really thought I was someone up to no good.But then they realize I'm not and it all works itself out.)  

He continued, "My parents almost bought this property just so they could tear this old eyesore down."

I didn't dare tell him how much I admired the eyesore or how relieved I was that nobody had torn it down.

Yet.

We exchanged a few pleasantries and went about our business. 

The End.



I don't know why I love old, decrepit houses so much, but I do.
I tend to find beauty in imperfection.
Perfection bores me.
The End.


8 comments:

deborah said...

I wonder why the houses are vacant..what happened to the families who built each house with hopes of making a home...and am glad they can camouflage themselves most of the year to keep people from seeing them and think that they need to be removed.
Have a nice Tuesday!

Mental P Mama said...

I wish they could talk.

growing wild on waverly lane said...

They can talk. All you have to do is stare without blinking for a really long time and they come to life, with people and pets and trashcans and woodpiles. Trust me; try it.

On the way to most anywhere around here you see abandoned falling down houses. Going past them there are souls waving a greeting.

I hope they don't get torn down.

Anonymous said...

There's something reassuring in seeing that no matter how hard man tries to tear down the forests, as soon as the man's back is turned the forest ultimately wins. --Betsy

Daryl Edelstein said...

so sad to see houses deserted by all but nature ...

Rodney said...

Actually we saw all of these houses and wondered why people would just abandon them....so sad

Dghawk said...

When I see old houses like these, I sometimes think of a pet that's been left and they are waiting for their family to return. And they wait....and wait....and wait.

Country Girl said...

Then you would like where I live. I have some decrepit windows to clean and need your help.