I love old houses. Have I mentioned this before? It seems to me it may have come up. But I'm not sure I've adequately expressed just how much I love old houses.
Today, the kids and I went to a new park. It was in the middle of a farm area I didn't know existed, near a state-run equine facility. "State grounds" notices were everywhere. The kids loved the park (Greyson even found a kid from his school, although sadly not from his actual class, and they got on quite well), and the area was beautiful. But on the way through the state grounds, we passed four or five beautiful old houses - big white farmhouses with stone foundations, one with a cupola, another with a lovely screened-in porch. Clearly, the state has no idea what to do with these houses, as all of them are boarded up and just falling to pieces. It made me sick to my stomach to pass them. Such a waste! Lovely old houses that someone would love to live in, just left to die. Yes - they're inanimate objects in a world where violence towards and neglect of human beings, animals, and other living things is all too common, and yet this is what I get upset about. I can't help it, frankly. I always feel sad when I see an abandoned old house by a highway or somewhere ... but 5? I was overwhelmed by sadness. Poor things.
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