All across the country the landscape is dotted with abandoned
farmsteads and buildings whose walls are filled with stories of heartache and
happiness. On a recent trip back through
the Kansas Flint Hills to take photographs for the cover of my book, I was once again
transported through time as we captured images of the past. We photographed abandoned hotels and schools
with their roofs open and gaping toward the sky and trees poking through the
windows seeking the world outside. We peeked through the windows of abandoned
schoolhouses to see blackboards still lining the front wall and a pot-bellied
stove still standing guard in the center of the room. It seemed that at any
moment the teacher would appear in the doorway to call the children in from
recess. One could almost hear the
children’s laughter from the swing set that creaked sadly in the Kansas wind. The cattle grazing on the hills and the tall
prairie grass bent low against the wind lent a timeless quality to the
surroundings. There had been wind and cattle
grazing here for centuries.
We were enveloped in a silence so vast that one dared not
speak above a whisper. Only the sound of the wind through the prairie grass and
the gentle lowing of the cattle prevailed. Clusters of trees followed the
creeks and rivers as they meandered through the lowlands. They were protected
from the wind here and the comforting sound of rustling leaves softened the
harshness of the surroundings. But on
the open range a lone tree struggled to stay upright against the constant wind.
Stacked stone fences lined the roadways, laid by hand over a
century ago to mark the boundaries of one’s land against encroachment. Ancient
barbed wire fences strung between stone fence posts built when the railroad age
ended the era of the open range, kept the herds separate. It was as if the ghosts of the past were still
there...watching and protecting what they had devoted their lives to creating.
Most of the early pioneers to the area used whatever
materials were available to them to create their dwellings. The most basic structure was the dugout. It was usually dug into a dirt bank with a sod
roof. Sod houses required little expenditure because they were built from
native grasses and their roots held the dirt together to form building blocks for the house. Very few of these dwellings exist today, because they were
subject to water damage and infestation by vermin and were only used as
temporary housing.
When settlers to Kansas found that the area was destitute of
timber, they turned to a layer of limestone rock close to the surface that they
soon found could be used for fencing as well as building. Besides being durable
and fire resistant, limestone had several other advantages. It could be obtained easily with the proper
tools and techniques and it was uniform in thickness. When freshly quarried, it was soft enough to
shape with simple tools and hardened after being exposed to air.
Since the lowlands were prone to flooding, many schools and
homes were built on the crest of a hill where the endless horizon provided a
clear view of approaching storms and marauders. Although this location provided
little protection from the wind and weather, it provided an unobstructed view
of the Kansas sunset. As the sun sank
below the horizon, it set the entire sky ablaze in shades of bright orange and red
against the golden backdrop of the prairie grass.
Gazing out at the abandoned farmhouses, one feels a sense of melancholy co-mingled with joy. If the building had a voice, it would say, “Don’t mourn for me. I have had a good life. While it’s true that I have seen sadness and withered hopes, I have also watched children grow to adulthood and seen dreams realized. I am here now only as a reminder of the sacrifices made to create this life for you. Embrace me and move on, but don’t forget me. I am the roots; you are the wings."
Gazing out at the abandoned farmhouses, one feels a sense of melancholy co-mingled with joy. If the building had a voice, it would say, “Don’t mourn for me. I have had a good life. While it’s true that I have seen sadness and withered hopes, I have also watched children grow to adulthood and seen dreams realized. I am here now only as a reminder of the sacrifices made to create this life for you. Embrace me and move on, but don’t forget me. I am the roots; you are the wings."
Stone Schoolhouse: Flint Hills National Preserve |
District 22 Schoolhouse, c.1890 |
Stone Farmhouse: Flint Hills National Preserve |
Snokomo Schoolhouse c. 1882 |
Love the photos and your lyrical words!
ReplyDeleteLOVED the photos! The blue skies with white clouds tell of Kansas' hope for a better classroom. I feel through your photos the lone tree guarding a bell towered school house, abandoned but waiting. Then the all but forgotten stone, one room school house, and the eerie peak through barbed wire at the one room schoolhouse. The last photos showed me buildings without glass and roofs displaced, closing my thoughts about education, in despair. Your photos balanced hope and tragedy, but as you said, all are built on the high ground, the hill, to protect them from floods. Education is protected by our teachers inside the buildings. Love you, Wanda, made me think and feel good.
ReplyDeleteI love your thoughtful incites into the symbolism suggested by the photos!-Wanda
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