Who designed and turned the spindles above the door adding curvature and ornateness to the otherwise straightness of the house in the desert?
Who knocked upon that door…who rushed out that door to hear the screen door slam behind…left that door and never came back?
Were footsteps upon the porch welcomed or dreaded? Did anyone sit on the porch and watch and listen to the coyotes at night? Who cut these boards, selected these boards and crafted this home?
All questions that popped into my mind as I stood alone on a windy evening. No more answered now than then………
