The other day, I stopped by an old farmstead that was being auctioned off for a new subdivision. As I wandered the grounds around the house and barns, I noticed many things that should have been there were missing. The pigs were gone, the plow was gone, the front yard zinnias in the old cast iron pot were gone. No Shepherd dog to greet you at the gate by the road and not a single yellow cat could be seen. Out back of the house there was no clothesline, and no large green metal yard chairs to rest in after a hard day in the field by the farmer who had lived there.
Weeds now grow in the road where children once raced each other behind the dust of a hay wagon.
From the house, there was no sound of children playing on the front porch or swinging high in the old porch swing. In fact, the porch swing, with its many layers of paint, was also gone. There were no clay pots of petunias. Just a porch with well-worn planks that several generations of community minded farm folks had walked upon. Inside the old white frame house, the school pictures, almanac calendars, catalogs, white cook-stove, and the family Bible were all missing.