Oh the stories you could tell if only you could whisper to me. You sit so quietly on a sunny lot, wild grasses blowing. No sign of a mower here for many years. The dragon fly that sits on the door bell has been here for hours; is he watching over the house? I'm sure he too has tales to tell.
This is what the Cape looked like in the 1800's. Sweet little shingled houses dotted the roadside. These were the simple houses of hardy Cape settlers who lived by farming and fishing. I wonder who were the first people to live at 1066 Queen Anne Road in Chatham? Who lived there between now and than? I am told by my neighbor that the people who own this house come now and then to work on it. They come in a trailer and hook up to the electricity in the house. I peeked in the windows; there is much to be done but it looks like they have done some significant gutting. I am grateful they didn't tear this gem down. Two years ago one of the oldest houses in Chatham was torn down just down the road. I kept meaning to photograph it. One day I went by and it was gone. Just like that. The house they built in it's place is unspeakably ugly. I know, in many cases, it costs more to renovate than to tear down but how is it possible that one of the oldest houses in a town like Chatham can be destroyed just like that? All that history bulldozed in a matter of hours.
The wind blows through the trees as I sit admiring this special house. Thank you sweet house. I am happy I met you.
Life is in the details. The mourning dove perched on the weathered roof of an old fishing shanty. The dragonfly on the bell of a nearby cape cottage. The blue green reflection of a trusted dory as it waits at it's post. The sweet smell of a freshly mowed field.
