There is this precious cottage down the street from my house. It’s abandoned. It’s been neglected. It’s stripped of all it’s valuable accents. We have always enjoyed it’s simple beauty.


Someone broke the glass door and went in. So, we went in because…well, we have been dying of curiosity.


The curved stairs with no railing.


The main hall with a vaulted ceiling.


The kitchen was gone.



The upstairs had these adorable doors and angles.


The roof is leaky, obviously.


But, oh, what a sweet gem. It will never be restored because it’s not historical. It’s not “Civil War” worthy.


So the owners took all the good stuff, and sold the beautiful shell.

This time of year, the huge gingko tree out front is blazing yellow. It’s such a fairy tale, but in reality, it’s a humble subject of a Buzzfeed article about “amazing abandoned places in Tennessee”. If that would ever exist.

I love that we live next to a battlefield. All the preserved wildness is haunting and never disappoints. It’s a refuge after days of hard work and no energy to drive, to walk through the canopy of trees to this place of wonder that never gets old. We play hide and seek and always find something interesting and lovely. It will be hard when the Feds actually decide to tear it down because it’s on a battlefield. History has levels of importance, but for now, this little place is all wonder.


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