Falling Downs isn't actually falling down.
Well, it is and it isn't.
I stood back and admired the old shack tonight, in a twighlight junkhaven madness that even my minister could appreciate.
I was gazing up on the old pile from in front of the garage.
It occurred to me that in the city, this gazing spot would be in my neighbor's yard.
Or in the yard of the next neighbor after that.
Here, I'm just in between the house and the barn.
One hundred acres of yard spread out in all directions.
And a tiny spot of peace of mind stuck right here in the middle.
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