You don’t see one of these every day–that is, unless you regularly find yourself traveling the back way from Woods Run up to Brighton Heights. I was all the way down in my low gear huffing and puffing up that hill and believe you me I thought twice about giving up the small amount of inertia I had to stop for a photo, but there was really no decision. This is the kind of hardship we dedicated bloggers/ghost house haunters live for.
‘Scuse me while I catch my breath, even the memory is exhausting…OK, I’m good. Where was I? Oh, yeah: there I was, face-to-tar shingle and clapboard with the big one! This amateur archeologist had everything he needed but the platte maps. Such a perfect specimen! One tiny house perfectly imprinted on the neighbor’s only slightly larger simple frame home, complete with front and rear porches, slanted roof, and exposed foundation.
I don’t know what happened to that little guy, but I’m sure glad it (literally) left a mark to tell us where it was and give us a hint at what it was all about.