Historical places are like a rotting log

Fulton, Ohio

Historical places are like a rotting log. Once there was a seed, that planted in the earth. It became a sapling, and then it became a precious tree bearing fruit and nuts. Then, while it was spared from lightning, and survived storms and drought, it eventually succumbed to old age and died. Woodpeckers came to feed on borers that made a home in the dead wood.  Holes became home to birds, raccoons, and squirrels. Eventually, the old tree could not stand any longer, and with a shove from the wind it came down to the ground. There, fungi, insects, and animals made a feast of what remained. It took a long time, but all that exists is a stain where it once stood.

Visiting Fulton, a small farm village in North Central Ohio in Harmony Township where my Great Grandmother once lived in a small house that I visited as a child, I see the house still survived. A railroad track once passed by the home, and Great Grandma was watchful that I didn't play too near the track. 

She watched me from her kitchen window where she prepared boiled cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and beef that would become a hearty lunch. I could smell that cabbage clear out in the back yard. I wasn't fond of it, but it eventually became one of my favorite foods, owing that to Grandma Nevada Shoewalter. 

Because the train tracks are gone, it was a little hard locating this small house that had a front porch. Great Grandma played music from a record player, and we danced on the porch until it eventually broke through. Dad had to rebuild the front porch for her after that.

There was a bedroom in the front of the house with the door closed. That's where her husband "Albert" died, and she never used it again. She stayed upstairs. A small living room occupies much of the downstairs with a tiny dining space next to the kitchen.

She had no city water and used a hand pump at the sink to draw what she needed. She also had a rain barrel for doing the laundry and such.

It doesn't appear that the old house has much life remaining, and Fulton has all but died. Progress once lived here, but it apparently moved on.

Nevada Shoewalter lived here in Fulton, Ohio