This particular home has been without a warm body living in it for over 2 years now. It sits lonely and cold on a slight hill just past my mother's home. I pass it nearly everyday. The deer have it on their grazing route. At dusk I occasionally spot a doe or two darting across the road to the woods beside and beyond the house.
I have always loved this home and its location. The woods seem to snuggle up behind it and the knoll it sits on gives it a pedestal of protection from the road below. She painted it pink and there were a bank of aluminum louvre style windows, very 50ish, prominently positioned at the front as if she was proud of them. The concrete stairs leading up to her front door were poured so well that even as a young girl I was impressed.
2 comments:
I am certainly intrigued by what I read of Nashville. It appears in words and images different than the rest of the world. And now with a bad economy, something else, too. This image is the stuff of memory. For me, false memories put into place by some excellent artist. And of course, that is the power and the glory.
Thank you WS. I so appreciate your visit.
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