I've finally put some more pictures from our holiday travels last August online. I hesitated on this particular set, probably because there's so much to say about it. It is hopeless to find the time to even begin to explain the background or describe the scenes portrayed.
In a nutshell, my grandfather bought this land to retire on to many years ago. Some say he was trying to recapture something of his youth, growing up on a farm. He built the farm house seen here, after the original burned down. My granddad died over a dozen years ago. and I hadn't been up to the farm since probably a few years before that. Owned now by an uncle, it has sat mostly unused all these years. The front yard, which I remember as a grassy hill leading down to a creek, is now a forest. The farmhouse, up on the edge of a hill, is barely visible from any direction anymore, ensconced in trees. Yet it remains deep in its grove, a hidden treasure box of memory and curiosity.
Then there's another reclusive uncle building himself a log house way in the far back of the property, barely accessible by anything half resembling a road. But that's yet another long and curious story.
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