Meet the remains of a club house from the forties. Alone in the middle of the woods, it’s caving in on itself for lack of attention.
A lifetime ago, it echoed with the sounds of laughter, music and dancing. It was the place to be on a Saturday night. Travelling musicians, salesmen and vaudeville entertainers stopped by to wow the locals, and young people lined the walls in their finery, hoping to work up the courage to ask that special someone to dance.
Now those days are gone. The music is replaced by the wind in the trees and the warbling of a nearby stream. The travelling entertainers have sold their horses and opted for a stable income at one of the national theatre venues down south. The shy young wallflowers who finally took that momentous step onto the dance floor have moved to the coast and become grandparents.
But out here in the forest, the memories remain.