Hector's Place

Nova Scotia (Map)

Spring 2012/13.

 

Leaving the highway, I found myself at one of those exits where you wonder if its only purpose is to break up the controlled access.

The dirt road to the south led upwards in elevation & one couldn't help but notice the old farmhouse standing upon a ridge at road's end.


Loving old, picturesque farmhouses, I couldn't help but stop in for a visit.

Rumbling down the lengthy driveway which reminded me more of the American South, my thoughts were broken by the nearby newer homes on the rural road I just left - owners of this farmhouse? Soon to come check me out?


Birds flew off and a groundhog scurried under the house as I quietly shut the car door. Noticing the garage and shed in disrepair, I made my way for the back yard.


Standing in the doorway and wondering about the safety of the floor, the assemblage of items lent itself to thoughts of the myriad of farm life tasks faced by this workshop.

Surely some ailment must had befallen the farmer, with the shed and garage showing such signs of disuse and disarray.


Placing my hands together to peer inside a window, it looked like the house was suffering from a lack of maintenance as well.


Clues abound as to recent life here. Bright stickers and simple instructions on the microwave to help with diminishing vision?

That would lend itself as to why the garage hadn't seen work in a good while.


Near the front door and in the kitchen, both calendars marked the current month as March of 2011 - just over 2 years ago.


The collection of items here - very close to their normal location - forces you to wonder about what happened in March of 2011. A sudden visit to the hospital? A move to the elderly care facility, while there aren't any nearby family members to clean out the old house?


The handful of abandoned homes I've seen in this condition always invoke the same thoughts and curiosities. It's natural as you wonder what happened, what type of life they lived, what kind of people lived here. You can't help but stereotype the 'type' of people you envision to have left this place, based on people you know of similar lives, but never knowing for sure.


I continued on my travels, thinking about mortality and what's coming, be it soon or 50-odd years down the line as I had seen here.

 

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