The moldy wicker chair caught my eye from the road as I passed this old home. I doubled back, pulled into the remnants of a driveway and parked my car. An elderly lady who lived next door was walking across her yard when I approached her to ask about the house, and if I could photograph it. Her power had just gone out, she explained, but the old house belonged to her and three other siblings...it had been her mother's home. The fact that the wicker chair still sits on the front porch just waiting for use is endearing, in a way, and very telling of life in the south.
1 comment:
It's funny growing up in Louisiana you see something like that everyday. But when you look back from a different perspective you realize how extarodinary the everyday really is.
Post a Comment