Like a woolly mammoth it stands here in the field. This house and the elements are finding their way to oneness.

I love houses. Any kind of house, although I’m partial to small ones. And, I’m always sad when I see an abandoned house, wondering why no one was able or willing to care for it,  leaving it to find its way back home. Years ago, my friend Becky and I went into some old, rundown houses—Becky called them “tick” houses—the ones with broken windows, falling-down floors, and roofs with nature-made skylights. She laughed at me because of my urge to redeem something so irredeemable.

The other day I drove by this tick house. Clearly beyond redemption, although I did find myself wondering if there was any salvageable wood, this vine-covered dwelling evoked in me something unexpected: pleasure. I found it pleasing and oddly comforting that Earth’s energies and vigorous, growing things had come to surround and merge with this old house. The house became not something abandoned, just something that had moved on. Like the woolly mammoth, we are all slated for extinction.

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