All that remained of this outbuilding was the one wall. It bowed in and out along its’ length, defying the elements a day at a time. When I saw it I was struck by the lush profusion of leaves that surrounded the old wood. It seemed a perfect contrast to the vigor of life and passage of time wearing down all things. All the structures on this piece of land are gone now, after sitting unused for years. The house I wrote about some time ago (Goodspeed) commenting on the condition and ruminating on the history. Houses and outbuildings fascinate me, and not just the rundown ones, though not the cookie cutter ones. I like the lines, design, siting and feeling a house gives off. I like the softened edges of an old house that has seen years of family use, yet is still standing tall. I like the crispness of a new house, its’ history wanting to start, all fresh-faced like a child at the bus stop for the first day of school. Even as a child I loved to look at houses and envision the interior layout and how it was lived in. Maybe I have a strong “shelter gene” that draws me to places of shelter, though some I have seen have given off a strong vibe that belies that concept. Who knows, I just know I find most buildings fascinating, and for me that is enough.