"Retired"

Found these relics several years ago, maybe a decade or so ago, now that I think of it, not long after we moved here to Illinois. This particular location was on IL Rt 140, near the west boundary of Bond County, a dilapidated, crumbling old two story farmhouse, an outbuilding that looked to be an old chicken coop or some such, and a small concrete subterranean structure of some sort that I still haven't figured out if it is a storm shelter or a root cellar. Having passed the old place many times on our way to somewhere else and back, that day I made a point of stopping to savor what was left of what once had been someone's pride and joy, someone's place called home. Back then, one of my favorite things to do was explore my new stomping grounds with my camera in tow. And one of my favorite subjects (still to this day) would be abandoned farmsteads. Here in the Midwest, there are a few of those here and there, in various states of decay, nature and the elements doing their best to try and reclaim the ground these old farms sit upon. When I see an old barn or farmhouse, my imagination stirs with a desire to know the story, the lives that once graced these buildings, the joys, the sorrows, the dreams that flowed around and through these places like early morning prairie mists. Who were they? How many generations had lived here? When was it built? Were there children living here? Did they run up and down that old staircase? Wonder what this old house remembers of Christmases past? I look at the dilapidated staircase, or the remains of an old pantry or summer kitchen, and can almost see and hear the life of the old homestead back in its prime. This particular pile of timbers and old plaster was too brittle to be clambering inside of, but the lack of doors and gaping windows provided ample views to the interior. Peeling wallpaper and paint in some places, exposed original lathe in others. The "shadow" on the wall where a staircase had once been attached, holes in the ceiling offering a glimpse of the upper story-- but only enough of a glimpse to pique one's curiosity further, yet leaving one with no safe way to see where those stairs once led to, and creating more fodder for the imagination! After seeing all I safely could of the old farmhouse and picturing in my head and heart what might have transpired inside its walls throughout the years, I moved on to exploring the grounds around it. Outside, more evidence of various time periods of the home's lifetime....relics and bits of different decades, nothing particularly useful now, mostly broken, dirty, or barely identifiable. A chicken coop or small animal enclosure of some sort....evidence of a former clothesline....an old well or cistern, now capped off for safety. And on the morning side of an outbuilding, a stack of cubbies built onto the shed, some containing odds and ends one might find in an old machine shed, barn, or garage....and these two characters. Something about the way they looked in the morning light clicked with me. My mind conjured up images of old tractors or farm machinery, and I thought of a farmer who might have lived here and worked the surrounding land. Thought of the weathered hands that might have held these two items once, and later that same day, might have held his wife's hand lovingly as the family bowed heads to say grace at supper. I took a lot of pictures that morning, most of which remain in my head and left more questions than answers, left me wanting to know more about this old farm. The old place is gone now, save for the odd little concrete bunker. But these two rusted relics serve as a reminder for me of an old farmstead whose families I never met, whose earlier glory I'd never seen, and yet even in its decay, I could still see clearly in my mind's eye, as if I had stood there with them all that day. Two old relics and a disintegrating farmhouse.....And yet, to this day, when I look at this photo, I can see in my mind and feel in my soul the life that old place once had.