Not found on a southern prairie, but at a seaside home. I had to trespass a bit to take the picture. As always, I anticipated attack dogs that didn't materialize. Just something once beautiful, now a ruin. Dilapidated. And yet. . . some aesthetic splendor. Lost stories, tales untold, it still can spark the imagination.
I slept poorly, rose before five. It is dark, cold, and wet, an inauspicious start of an inauspicious day.
There are some things a new coat of paint won't fix. There are many.
I think I'll go back to bed now.