Growing up in a town that is close to nothing, driving is a part of life. Not commuting or traffic or congestion, just driving. I grew up spending hours in the car. I may have been less enthused as a kid to sit for extended periods of time, but now, it is one of my favorite things to return to. Some of the best conversations I’ve had with my parents, friends, and my sister have happened on these roads. There’s not always cell service, freeing us from the distractions we too easily answer, and the spaciousness of the landscape seems to slow things down.
This past August I spent a lot of time on the road again. Some in good company. And some alone.
I find it soothing to be on those roads alone again. The motion satisfies my need to be on the move, in constant pursuit of getting somewhere. And with that part of myself occupied, the rest of me settles down somewhat. It provides a similar meditative quality that I find in running or cycling – the movement brings stillness. It forces reflection really, you can’t get away from it when 3 hours of open road sit before you and you have only yourself and the landscape to talk to.
This past August I spent a lot of time on the road again. Some in good company. And some alone.
I find it soothing to be on those roads alone again. The motion satisfies my need to be on the move, in constant pursuit of getting somewhere. And with that part of myself occupied, the rest of me settles down somewhat. It provides a similar meditative quality that I find in running or cycling – the movement brings stillness. It forces reflection really, you can’t get away from it when 3 hours of open road sit before you and you have only yourself and the landscape to talk to.
Call me crazy, but this trip I found myself in conversation with the landscape often while driving. I was particularly intrigued with the spaces left behind. You don’t have to drive for long in this part of the country to come across abandoned houses, barns, or old sheds. Some sit in plain view on the highway; others are tucked away on back roads, mostly unseen.
I can't get enough of them. I love the flaking paint. I love the rusted doorknobs and nails, and broken windows. I love the objects left behind. I love the way the grass grows through the cracked bits of the foundation, how the earth begins to blend with, and reclaim, what has been built upon it. Mostly, I love the curiosity that meets me here. I wonder what these spaces once held. Who were the people that lived here? What did their lives look like? Where did they go? Do they ever revisit?
These are a few of the abandoned spaces that invited me to pull over the car and have a conversation.
Perhaps they'll speak to you as well.
Perhaps they'll speak to you as well.