While driving south of Geneva, NY, along the lake, I spotted this abandoned old house. I love old houses.



It was once a sweet little beauty, in it's time. My guess is that it was built in the 1880s or so. It's got gingerbread detailing and other very fine elements. The builder took great care when he built it.



Over the years, the homeowners added on to the structure. That front porch is very 1940s.



I wonder how long it's been empty? Don't houses like this make you wonder? Who built this house? What happy memories are here? Were the rooms filled with the happy laughter of children (one of the best fathers day presents, you know)? Did these people have a farm, did they perhaps raise chickens or were they part of the local hops or vineyard-growing economy? What happened here? Why did they leave?



The original stoop had obviously fallen away long ago. It's replacement was a pitiful and undersized concrete block, very harsh and ugly for such a sweet little home.

I wanted to go inside. I love roaming through old houses. But I wasn't completely sure if this one was still occupied... if not by people than perhaps by rodents with big teeth... so I just peeked inside the windows.



That's 1970s paneling and flooring. The place was probably rented out and eventually abandoned. Someone's slippers were left on the hallway floor. :( The place looked very dusty.

To me, houses seem like living organisms. It's tragic to see them empty. Like the discarded Velveteen Rabbit or Woody the Cowboy, I feel sad for homes that are no longer occupied but left to rot in solitude. A very sad sight.