Last week I noticed the interior doors were open and all furnishings removed. Then on my walk the next day, I noticed the front door was open revealing the empty rooms beyond, and there was a sign on the front lawn announcing "demolition" of the dwelling, but no date was listed. This all made me very sad, as if a family member was to be put to death and there was nothing to do about it. And that was true. I wish I had taken photos of the house nestled among the others and surrounded by pines, large and small. But...no. I would have been embarrassed if I got caught by the owners taking pictures of their property.
In less than 72 hours that history, generations of memories, laughter of kids growing up, weekend cocktail parties, cookouts with family and guests, is no more.
And this is what I saw:
|Thursday: Screened porch & front bedroom are gone.|
|Friday: House and Chimney are rubble.|
|Saturday: No signs of the house, or shed. Only a pile of pine roots and dirt.|
The block is eerily silent, no residents in sight, so I think everyone is kind of grief-stricken at this time.
And so it goes.