Ya know those sunny winter days when you wake up, look out the window and think to yourself ‘damn that looks so nice and warm,’ only to get outside and be blasted by a gust of negative ten degree wind? Well, it was on one of those deceptively sunny, though freezing cold winter days when I photographed one of the most incredible old farmhouses I have ever seen. Thankfully the windows were intact to keep the breeze out. Oh, and not only were the windows intact, but everything else was as well. Unlike many old homes where not only the windows are gone or broken, but the inside is trashed or even empty, this home was an incredibly well-preserved time capsule. 

Everything remained in this old house, from plates to furniture, down to old vintage vacuums and even marriage photos from the 1950s. The collection of items left behind here was incredible.

I’d have to say one of my favorite things here is how the colors flow throughout the entire home. Every area displays a beautiful collection of hues, almost always paired with wonderfully complementing furniture. In one bedroom, a bright blue coats every wall. Now shedding with the passing of time, paint peels and hangs from the ceiling and walls, creating a wonderfully contrasting texture to such a still and untouched area. Paint chips fall to the bed, where the sunrise adds a splash of deep orange as it shines in through the window at the other side of the room. Such a peaceful early morning scene. It’s almost overwhelming in moments like this trying to decide which angle to capture before that perfect moment disappears. 

Old homes such as this are so fragile, and details become far too personal to share information as I do with many places I share here. For this reason, nothing will be said about its location, nor the people who once lived here. Not only to protect the privacy of these people, should any of their family still be around, but to also protect the home from vandals, looters, scrappers or anyone else looking to disturb such a well-preserved space.

In the basement, plants make their way in through windows where a cellar door entrance can be found. The early morning sun shines beautifully through the old glass panes, landing on two vintage vacuums, bringing them to my attention as I entered the room. Here, directly to my right, I also found what used to be their dining space, with dishes still stacked neatly along the wall over the sink and countertop. Lifting a couple of the dishes, I could tell by the amount of dirt and dust surrounding a rather clean circle, that they had sat untouched for quite a long time. 

Also in the basement was a box of notes following the death of a family member. Condolences from friends and family on the passing of a father and husband. It’s hard to say who held onto these memories. It could have been the wife, while also possible that it could have been the daughter. Again though, no names will be shared. 

In an upstairs bedroom, schoolwork remains on a desk in the corner of the room covered in dust. Decorations are still pinned to the walls as they have been likely for decades. It’s a peaceful feeling, seeing the sun touch such a silent and undisturbed space. In a box at the foot of the bed were numerous love notes, and even wedding photos left behind that had never been sent out with thank you cards for those who had attended. 

I will share one of the love notes here, but will be removing any information I feel is too sensitive to share. Her husband had gone to join the army shortly after their marriage, and was writing to her from where he was stationed. You can always tell how much someone loved and cared for someone when finding something like this. She held onto this safely in a box with numerous other things to remember him by.

“Hi Hon,

How is everything? Are you lonesome? I am. I miss you more than you can imagine. We got here today at 3:30 P.M. We had an uneventful trip. Friday night I really needed a drink. Boy I really felt awful when we left on these buses. I don’t think I could stand many more separations like this. On the train Berrie Murofsky had some sandwiches and I had the bottle so we got together and had a little party.

The food is miserable. I’ll probably lose a lot of weight but I can afford it I guess.

We wake up at 5:30 AM and work till about anywhere from 6 to 8 P.M. but we don’t get any overtime for it. I miss your cooking. I also get cold at night. I don’t have anyone to keep me warm.

I hope you get your ear taken care of. I can’t wait to get back home to you hon. By the time I eat supper, wash up, check my men and take care of miscellaneous things I have very little time to write you. The lights go out at 11 PM. The lights are going out now so I’ll finish.

Your loving husband Jim

P.S. I love and miss you very much.”

In the living room, couches, chairs, newspapers, a television and sewing table, including the supplies all remain. What was so incredible to me was not only that the home still had power, but that the television, after so many years still turned on. It took a minute for the tubes to warm up, but even in the freezing cold weather, this old television still had life. Quite a few times I’ve come across these old homes with power still running to them, but this is the first time I’ve seen something like this. 

It’s not often I come across a forgotten home left so intact, and when I do I often wonder if it has truly been forgotten, or if one person somewhere out there simply cannot forget about it. I mean, it just makes sense when you think about all of the things left behind, like the box of love notes. When I look through things like that it almost feels as if someone is holding onto this part of their life, not wanting to discard these items, but not wanting to live with them. It’s hard to get rid of an entire part of your life you loved so much, especially when it’s the only parts you have left other than your memories. 

I’ll leave this writing here, and let the rest of these photos speak for themselves. Check out a video walk through at the bottom of this post as well.

Full video walk through: