If you’ve been around my work for more than say 10 to 13 minutes, you know that I photograph a lot of abandoned places. Rarely do I get bad vibes at a location…but this place (the place in the trees, I mean – not the mailboxes) felt very creepy to me. It was almost to the level that I call Murder House. And that’s why there’s just the one photo – sticking around wasn’t a thing I thought I needed to do. You know, in case it WAS a Murder House.
near Danbury, Nebraska
I was a junior in high school when my grandfather died; the day of his funeral was bitterly cold, with a hard wind from the north. Of course, since it was in the 1970s and I was an idiot, I wore a very short dress that day, and it took me quite a few days to thaw out. It served me right.
The weather here reminded me of that day. But at least this time, I was more suitably attired.
Blue Hill, Nebraska