This Sunday at Coteau Valley Farm we all took a nice Sunday drive. It was entirely relaxing and dreamlike. The weather was basically perfect on the Coteau, with a warm wind coupled with blue skies and views as far as the eye could see on the flat prairie. We came across this gorgeous old farm which lies not too far from our own house. As we drove past this shockingly beautiful old home, my brain had to play catch up with my eyes, just for the love of the view alone. We slowed down and backed up the car on the gravel road just far enough to get a better view of the home and take a picture. I was fascinated and entranced by the possibilities of the past in this homestead. Who had lived here and what events had occurred in the old weathered home? Even from the road, I could see that a door on the cabin was methodically flapping in the wind. It seemed to me a little spooky as if the past occupants were beckoning me to come inside their home for a closer look. I actually really wanted to take the "offer" but we stayed on the road and snapped the shot. The colors of the Fall season and the contrasting old building's weathered wood, made for a quintessential look into a forgotten past. I wondered if anyone still knew anything about who lived there and how long ago the house was built. What sort of lives did the inhabitants live? They must have been pretty tough people, as the winters here on the Coteau, without modern equipment, would definitely have been paralyzing. I would love to know more about their experiences on the farm. I personally like to imagine all the different hardships they may have endured when they lived on the Coteau. So many families during the Depression and Dust Bowl packed up and left everything behind in search of a job out West. If that was the case, it seems ironic that their house survived and still standGod only knows at this point exactly what they endured there if any family actually lived the rugged life in the cabin that I presume they lived. I am sure stories of this home's past linger in certain circles, mainly family and possibly old friends or neighbors. But their life stories, the real meat of it have been forgotten or never known. Just like with everyone's life, the finer details will fade and old stories will be less and less told. Even so, somehow it all still plays out in the wind like a dancing melody. The forgotten stories lie inside an old flapping door that beckons to anyone, whoever dares to come take a closer look, but we keep driving ahead and most do not even stop to wonder. We all go on, forging our own days that will fade into the wind leaving only the prairie and God alone to know what the voices of the not so long ago past really uttered.
Coteau des Prairies
South Dakota Hobby Farm
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