The Silo

I walk every day when the weather is tolerable. Near my house is a long stretch of woods and farmland that will soon fall victim to more houses, if you ask some people. Recently hand-lettered signs of crayon on construction paper were taped over the sign announcing the new housing development proclaiming that we need our trees.

I don't disagree with the sentiment. I know that trees are very important to our planet and I hope that the builders do not decimate all of the trees that line the fields that will soon become homesteads. But I would be a hypocrite if I protested too hard. Some day I would like to buy a few acres of land and clear a patch in the center for a house of my own. A house that I've been designing in my head since I can remember. It's been inspired by bits and pieces of my experiences, places I've been, houses I've seen, books I've read. What's really neat is that my new husband likes my design and the only tweak he's made is the inclusion of a man cave. Since I hadn't scoped out any concrete plan for the basement yet, I was okay with it. No, really. And I will promise not to sacrifice more trees than necessary when I build my dream house.

Along the edge of the tree line stands an old silo. There is something about the silo that catches my eye. Every time I pass by it I look through the thinning trees to see if it is still there. It is slightly spooky, yet sad, rusting and abandoned yet eerily beautiful.

I know that some day soon it will be gone. And I will miss looking for it through the trees as I pass by.

ETA 6/20/2012
I drove by the silo today. It has been replaced by a bulldozer. RIP.