On my March trip to New Mexico, I saw many abandoned, broken down buildings – and simply had to stop to capture some of them on digital film. It made me wonder about the people who lived, worked, cried and laughed in these buildings.
Who entered through these doors?
And who exited through these doors?
Did they come and go with joy? Did they leave because life was no longer tenable in these places?
Was it because the family outgrew the space?
Life when many of these buildings were constructed would have been hardscrabble for many of these people. Trying to subsist on the land, trying to tame the vagaries of the weather with some years too wet, some too dry, some just right – having no control over the elements.
But there would have been joys too – the birth of a child, the success of a crop, the visits of friends, sharing cups of coffee, fruits of the land, jugs of home-brewed refreshments, dances with fiddlers plenty.
Times spent in homebuilt rocking chairs on porches.
the ravages of time and the elements tear apart structures
and we move on in one way or another. I like to believe that there was more happiness in these lives than sorrow; I like to believe there was success – success that allowed time to sit on the porch and remember the good times, remember the youth of children now grown, read stories to the children of those children, to hold the hand of the partner that had shared those years and feel gladness that the hand is there to hold.
I like to believe there was enough.
These old buildings have seen better days. 🙂
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I think that’s the charm of them.
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I like to believe that, too.
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Your last long paragraph gave me goose-bumps, Carol. I too hope that the occupants of the derelict buildings you discovered on your travels lived happy lives, with enough. What a beautiful post this is. ❤
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This is great. I’m with you. Maybe they left with the great draught and depression of the 1930s.
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I always feel these buildings of disrepair hold such sacredness as we will never know what they have breathed in their span. I always wonder about the stories left behind.
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Carol — If only those buildings could talk! In a previous post, you gave voice to “Sam” the squirrel. I can well imagine you “speaking for” these buildings as well 🙂
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These are awesome shots! I’m also one to try and visualize the lives of those who leave these architectural gifts behind. I think Laurie has a great idea…..I’d love to read a “story” about someone’s life through the eyes of their now-abandoned home. Hmmmmmmm……..
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Dear Carol,
I like the way you think! Those are the questions I ask myself whether I’m walking through the ruins of Pompeii, the deserted cliff dwellings of the Ancient Pueblo People, abandoned homes in the Amazon jungle, crumbling famine villages in Ireland, or the burnt-out shells of homes on the streets of Detroit. Like you, I see stories in every stone, hear echoes of the past, like the creak of that rocking chair upon the old front porch, and can imagine their joy and their sorrows. I feel that you have taken me on a journey tonight, not only through the ruins of old houses, but through emotional ups and downs, the joys and hardships of flesh and blood people. Thank you for sharing this thoughtful post and those compelling photographs!
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Surely hoping that however they lived their lives, that they lived with enough.
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