The abandoned cabin seems to shiver in the cool autumn mist.
The boughs of neighboring trees, which kept it company all summer, are growing bare. Leaves drop with each gentle breeze. They provide a little comfort by collecting at the base of the cracked stone foundation. It’s all the trees can do for their aging friend, a meager attempt to bolster it through the coming winter storms.
As I pass by, I wish I could help even as much as the trees. I step onto the porch and run my hand along the worn wood of the support posts. Flecks of paint stick to my skin, clammy in the damp air. A promise to return and pay kindly visits is all I can offer, but that seems enough for my dear friend.
A ray of sun peeks through the clouds, and the old cottage shines at me with a glint of its former vigor.