THE ALLURE OF ABANDONED PLACES

THE ALLURE OF ABANDONED PLACES

The veil of mystery unfolds in the embodiment of another time.  The fascination for mystery and the unknown abandoned places fascinate me, serving a reminder of mortality.

A curiosity in me arouses and the wonder of who lived there and why was it abandoned.  I have lived in some of those eerily beautiful, strange places that were destined to be abandoned after we moved on.  

Catching glimpses of the past has been fun.  I think about the life that once happened there.  I think of the reminders of life requiring regular upkeep, the weeds, the vines, the blackberry brambles that find their way through the cracks surviving in spite of no upkeep.

(Let your imagination run free with me, enjoy an evening of exploring abandoned places with urban explorers.  Yes, on YouTube.)

It is always interesting to speculate on what led up to the abandonment of such places and often during road trips I am always intrigued by buildings that look abandoned along the road.  I often wonder what it looked like new and who might have lived there.  Perhaps it is my want to dig into history or maybe the thrill, the anticipation of what I might find.

It never ceases to amaze me what one leaves behind and ends up no longer useful or no longer wanted and the wonder of what led to circumstances to becoming abandoned.  There is something peaceful about such places frozen in time.

It is hard to put into words the experiences I having lived in a house that at first sight one might determine it could be abandoned.

It had a history all in its own, a haunting memorial to the people who lived there before us.

What I came to admire was that there was always something to be found, the pieces of life left behind, a beautiful history lost in time.

My curiosity and the lure of exploring the acreage our temporary house one summer led to the discovery of a somewhat weathered, ghostly, dilapidated barn, a monument to simpler times and hints left behind resembling a museum which my siblings and I cleaned out as a super club house of sorts.

However, the secret treasure that lived under and around the blackberry brambles, stood a windmill in true beauty and decay, a homage to the past.

I thank God for the awesome memories of  

those few beautiful months of summer.

How do you replace the panic in