An old cellar or a piece of art?
A few years ago when I volunteered up at the local school, there was a really sweet retired teacher that volunteered, too.
Miss Lola Bell told me about an old school house that was near their property and that people were helping fix it up.
Yesterday, Little Bit and I found that school house on our afternoon drive. I must say, they did a great job. It is quite charming.
Standing on the sidewalk, I almost got a sense of what it would’ve been like carrying books and finding a seat inside.
Can you just imagine desks jammed packed with eager students, math written up on the blackboard, and the teacher giving the lesson?
We only stayed long enough to feel completely at home there, which only took about 30 seconds!
Guess that’s just part of my old fashioned soul. I always seem to feel right where I belong, among old hinges and irises.
Close to where we live is a little town that we’ve passed by many times in the last 16 years.
Back in its day I bet it was a hopping place. These days, except for the train horns and the Friday night guitar pickin’, it’s pretty quiet around there.
Today Little Bit suggested driving down one of the streets called Railroad Road, aptly named because it runs right along the tracks.
What a treat. As soon as I turned onto it, I pulled over and got out. Stepping up to the sidewalk was almost like walking back in time.
There were tin-sided buildings with windows that are past the point of looking in or out. Half a block down, all the storefront doors are locked up tight.
My favorite things were a beautiful old water pump, the number 35, and a pickup that seems to have found it’s long term home.
I’m so happy we finally decided to stop and look around. It was fun to imagine what the town was like all those years ago.