Just waitin' for somebody

Craving answers to a questions I have had for months now, I decided to pull into the driveway of an abandoned farmhouse located on the side of the road, about a quarter of a mile down from current home, (also an old farmhouse). The sign out front reads 'Ardena Farms'.

Apparently, the previous occupants ran a farm market out of the garage, which is also falling into disrepair. I usually drive by and admire the cute scalloped green and white striped awnings which shade the dilapidated front porch, and smile internally at the white lace curtains left hanging in the windows. Someone, a woman no doubt, wanted to maintain a sense of 'lived in', if only by accident.

Again, I was just driving by, when, as if drawn by the breeze, I made the snap decision to turn into the asphalt driveway, now overgrown with weeds. Had to see. I pulled around to the back, and surveyed the property. A lush cornfield is growing tall against the backyard, about 50 feet back. The yard is open, and free of clutter and trees. The driveway forms a loop at the end with some kind of gnarly old tree or bush in the center. I'm going to check out this house, I was thinking, as the excitement began to grow. Be careful, was my second thought.

I stepped cautiously onto the bumpy ground, not wanting to surprise any snakes or other varmint hiding out in the overgrown grass. I stepped up onto the creaky covered back porch and marveled at the original water pump. I couldn't help but give that old pump a good pumping. Rats. Wasn't able to draw any water but probably could have, had I kept at it. My attention quickly turned to the house.

I took a few steps to the nearest window, and brushing away the cobwebs, peered down onto the top of an old wooden kitchen table. The kitchen! The dusty antique table and chair were parked just under the window, and I believe there was a screwdriver on it. The cabinets were whitish, and may have been original though probably replaced in the 50s. Someone had updated the kitchen floor with tile and replaced the window under the sink.

There was that old fake brick, behind the stove, which was also ready to be kicked to the curb. Boy, I was dreaming of ripping that kitchen out, imagining what I would do to bring new life into these walls. There were a few indications of activity, such as the Mr. Coffee machine on the counter, the screwdriver on the table, but clearly these things had not been touched in quite some time. In fact, it was as if time stood still in that old house.

I walked around to the side and front of the house, looking into each window, thinking "That wallpaper has to go and...hmm...stairs...!! There was a pair of scissors on the steps. I was kinda wondering if the place was haunted, but wasn't discerning anything strange. Just a sad feeling for what was once something special to the area. What was once a thriving little homestead, a roadside farm market is now a deteriorating facade. A headstone. A sad state of affairs. An abandoned house. A landmark. A legacy. Just waitin' for somebody to DO sompin' nice.