A house takes no note when the inhabitant leaves for the last time. However elegant or civilized humans might consider the structure, a house does not differentiate itself from the external world. A house is just a complex arrangement of materials, participating, like everything else, in the dance of elements, creatures and the shifting firmament. A house in neither eternal nor impregnable. The outside will not stay outside. Insects will patiently wheedle their way in. Water will search for the smallest cracks and expand them. Ice, heat and wind will swell, shrink and buffet the edifice. Minerals in the soil will react with and decay the foundation. Beams will fall out of level and plumb. Angles will skew. Joints will weaken. An empty house, unmaintained by human ambition and optimism, will eventually sag and fall. We think it looks sad, abandoned, empty. This, however, is life for inanimate objects. This is the way where there is no will. It is not sad, it’s progress, growth. A house, left to its own devices, will turn back into an empty field. The wind, water and creatures will carry away the detritus. It takes great patience to see the end result, but it’s beautiful in its own way. Come out of your house and settle on the lawn. Watch the show.
Hello, friends. I trust you are well.