vandaliatraveler:

The regenerating forests along the Mon River Trail occasionally give up evidence of abandoned homesteads and past lives.  Adorned in ferns and moss and sinking back into the earth without protest, these places are solemn and sacred to me: broken, crumbling monuments to people who long ago scratched a living from the earth and are now gone.  Who were they?  Were they good people? What were their hopes and dreams? 

What hard-won wisdom and/or terrible secrets did they carry with them to their graves?  What do the artifacts they left behind reveal about their lives?  

Time is ruthless.  Soon, these ruins will be consumed by the forest and the last traces of the people who once called this place home will be lost forever.