"Near the garden, the house where I was raised sits forlornly in the woods; weeds and grass and bushes are slowly strangling it. A hole has appeared in the roof, as if a concrete block has been dropped by a passing airplane. . . . I 'm on my way to the creek to pick blackberries, but I can't resist circling around our old house one last time. In my gumshoes, I almost step on a nail sticking up from a shingle that is dissolving in the mud. I have spiked my feet on rusty nails on this farm before. I notice a nearby sinkhole carpeted with leaves--that was the septic tank. If I stepped there, I might disappear."
From Clear Springs: A Family Story by Bobbie Ann Mason, 1999
There was an old house out on Route 3 just outside Culpeper that we used to drive by when I was a kid. Mom used to call it her "halloween house". Remember that old house we walked to that time we were visiting Aunt Laura and Bascum? I always imagine the stories these old houses could tell if they could only talk!
ReplyDeleteI don't remember the "halloween house" but I do remember the other place that you mention. I think I have pictures of that old house somewhere around--I will have to see if I can dig them up.
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