Wisteria Ruin

I've driven by this house for, sheesh, 30+ years. (How is that possible???) I don't remember the first few times I noticed it. Probably just saw it was a big, older house, set back in the trees. Might have been it was occupied in the early days. At some point in the late '80s I think I noticed that there was a small hole in the roof near the chimney. Or maybe that was the mid-'90s. I've been in other houses that developed that problem. Left alone, such a leak over time begins to look like a shell went through. Sometime in the process the owner of the property put up some fence posts to keep people from driving straight up to the house, and a year ago he seems to have put a couple of those big round hay bales in the driveway to further block access. Of course anyone could still walk right up and even into the ruin. I thought of doing that, but kinda felt funny getting too close. The picture I wanted wasn't even close at all, but out by the road, with a little zoom added. The wisteria tells you the season I guess, and it's exploded this year because we've gone from winter to summer in ten days with almost no transition. Today it's supposed to hit 93. (I'm wondering if the people who are always citing the cold winters as proof that the theory of human assisted climate change is nonsense will now become concerned with the surprising heat of early April in central NC. My guess is, of course not. Or as they used to say on the teevee: "Nonsense, flying ants.")

there's a late poem by Robert Frost about the end of all this, by the way. He's standing at an old foundation, and muses that these remains are like a "dent in dough." The old boy really got our human place on the planet, didn't he.

This ruin would have made a great set for Baby Doll, back a few years. Or maybe The Fugitive Kind. I'd like to have seen Brando running around in there, or peeking out from one of those windows.