Friday, December 30, 2005


After several days of wandering the wilds of Texas, the sight of an abandoned cabin perched on the edge of the uplands overlooking the Canadian River was too alluring to ignore. We finished our work and decided to take a closer peek. At first, from a distance, I could imagine that this house was just vacant, that soon some family would return. I could see that there were curtains in many of the windows, café-style lovingly made for this home. But as we hiked closer, one plate glass window was seen to be shattered, the first clue that this home was decaying back into the landscape. We gingerly skirted the house, noticing an elaborate outdoor oven and smoker, speaking to our thoughts that this had been used as a hunter’s cabin. I couldn’t help but wonder who had so carefully made the curtains that were still in place, certainly not the hunter! As we got close, the house was obviously in a state of ruin.On one side, a door was missing. Fear kept me from getting too close as hornets had taken up residence and were swarming in territorial fashion at our presence. My final look as we headed back to civilization was at a once beautiful room with a wall of windows, now all broken with only the tattered remnants of the curtains, wind-whipped streamers haunting me with the unsettled memories of bygone habitants.


At 5:49 PM, Blogger Blueberry said...

Looks like something they could use for a movie set... but they'd rather start with a normal house in ex-urbia and make it look like that, then return it to its regular appearance later.

At 9:38 AM, Blogger Neil Shakespeare said...

Nice pics! The lure of abandoned buildings, the old wood turning gray like the trees, wondering what went on there. They sure lead to stories in our heads, don't they? Happy New Year! Best to you and yours.

At 10:19 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

My thoughts are similar to Neil's.

When I see something like this it makes me think about the people who built that house. Why build it there, exactly on that spot, and facing that direction. Why?

Who were they?
What did they have? What was their plan? Why not build in town, close to people and supplies, and fresh water, and electricity? Were they loners? Criminals? Ranchers? Oil diggers?
Or did they simply like to walk around naked, and wanted no neighbors to see?
Or did they simply want the quiet of solitude? Was it a writer wanting to be left to their own thoughts?
What insights would living in such a remote spot give a person posessed with an artistic and sensitive soul?

Oh, there is a song in this I think.


At 1:36 PM, Blogger Kvatch said...

My passion is for old abandoned gas stations.

About a million years ago (ten actually), I travelled cross country to take a job in California and deliberately looped down through West Texas and New Mexico, where I was raised. While on the road, I wrote a cycle of verse called Road Noise. The sixth in the cycle was an ode to a collapsed Texaco station, the 8th to a farmhouse in New Mexico much like the one you pictured.

Very cool.


Post a Comment

<< Home