Just on the edge of the two mile long sliver of the Susquehanna riverbank that is Marietta borough, a hundred yards from relatively busy Route 441, there is a large empty farmhouse. For some years now it's been owned by a prosperous local insurance company. I know nothing of its history. At one time I imagine that it was home to a happy and busy farm family, with young children running around laughing and shrieking, the older ones working in the fields or the large barn, and wonderful smells wafting from a well run kitchen. But that would have been a long time ago. It's been boarded up, and is being allowed to decay and crumble.
Still, every time I pass it on my way to Mt. Joy or Lancaster, I'm struck by its imposing presence, defining the ridge that it sits atop. Stately even in disrepair, defiant of its abandoned state. I can't help but feel stirred and bolstered by its resolute character, especially on this bleak and soggy February day.
abandoned house, 17 x 11, colored pencil