2_Day_Putt

The highlight of the rides and maybe this whole site was going inside a privately owned home without permission. I took my life in my hands. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but I'm getting that way and have sought to take advantage of the situation. I expected a vagrant to attack me around every corner. The reward was seeing the house and photographing it to the extent that my nerves would allow. Remember, I ride alone and I was in the unknown. I still can't believe I'm here to tell you about it.

The house was at the intersection of two small lanes in an area referred to as Knoxo. The house is what is called a "dogtrot". There is no front door but an open hall running from the front to the back for ventilation. The rooms are to either side. The open hall is what invited me in. I wouldn't have gone through a door, I don't believe. Or, maybe I would have. Can't tell these days what's next.

The little house to the rear was the kitchen. I was very hesitant about going into it and I didn't. Something tapped me on the sholder with that decision.

The tractor was still under the shed.

Walking in the front, the first room to the left was a living room, I think. The owner's old recliner was still there. It was all torn up and too sad to picture. Curtains were still hanging. How long had it been since the owners had lived here?

A small child's rocking chair was in the room, also. Was it a grandchild's. This was all really overpowering.

This is looking down the dogtrot to the kitchen building which was connected by an open, covered crosswalk.

The next room, with a fireplace, was on the left. I would guess it was a bedroom.

Across the hall was another brightly painted room with a fireplace. Again, probably a bedroom. This was a huge house built by a successful farmer, way back. I would guess it is very pre-Civil War, classifying it as antebellum.

Here's a picture of the kitchen.

That's as far as I went. Stuff around the fireplace stopped me. It had had a resident, recently. I left and almost got run over by the crazed pickup truck driver.

   Down the road was this home. My guess is that "its time" is not too far away. It may be as old as the one I was in.
    Much of history, by definition, is not pleasant. History features time lost and things gone, both real bummers. To be able to snatch a little of that past before its final demise into untrackable history was a gift, like be given a loaded gun with a hair trigger, then looking down the barrel. Thankfully that chamber was empty as was the house, maybe.
      That does it for this one. Sorry if it got a little reflective and sad in places. It's a lesson on how good we have it and how hard life for some was.
      See ya down the road.

Now I'm wondering what was upstairs?