I dearly love old falling down buildings. I just wish they could tell me their story. This one I ran across in California, earthquake country, I believe.
This picture is from Animas Forks, Colorado and, in this case, the old wood does tell a little story. Animas Forks was a mining town at a little over 11,000 feet elevation in the San Juan Mountains of Southwestern Colorado. This picture was taken on a trip from California to Michigan with my niece, Amanda.
As you can imagine, winter gets a little cold at 11,000 feet and the owner of this house tried to keep the cold and wind out by nailing tar paper on the outside of the building. Each of these nails has a formed washer like a little hat around it. From the number of nails, I would say that he had some trouble holding the tar paper to the wall.
By the way, it was once a fine house, two stories with a bay window and a beautiful view of the valley.
I seem to make this kind of picture a lot. For me, there is something about standing inside the broken down wreck of a building and taking a picture out of the window. I guess its the feeling that you are looking at the same view that the owner of this house saw everyday. This is Ashcroft, Colorado, near Aspen, on the trip with my father to scatter my Mother's ashes.
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