This house stood in the middle of cornfield… with not a single tree in sight. Her yard was not much more than dusty Virginia red clay. And that same clay served as the cement between the foundation and chimney stones.
The house was so tall… I guess because of the ten foot ceilings on both floors, which sat upon an elevated English basement. Or maybe it just appeared tall as it was the only thing taller than the corn.
All that remained of this old home, other than the masonry, was the framing, siding, and metal roof. Everything else had long ago been removed. “Stolen” the land owner told me.
I’ve never seen a more parched structure.
She had baked in that field for a couple hundred years.
Her wood was almost brittle to the touch. It would practically crumble in my hand.
Old houses each have their own character don’t they?
Originally posted 2015-05-20 23:33:29.