In recent years, I've developed a passion for ghost towns... those little remnants of former times, reminders of lives lived differently. I love the concept of the boom of a town. It was here for a reason.
There was something good there... a purpose, a passion, a desire for something better.
A reason to make your mark. People thrived, buildings were erected, dreams were dreamed.
And then it wasn't working. Did the gold run out? Was there a drought? Did the railroad go past a different town?
Was it traumatic? Did everyone leave suddenly? Was the town over run with crime? Did the town folk cling to their homes? Did they slowly trickle away? Were there stubborn hangers-on?
Were they sad to go? Relieved? Reluctant? Did they dream of what they left behind?
Ghost towns bring my imagination alive. They are the definition of dreams that came to an end. The physical embodiment of abandoned lives.
TOG made sure I saw two ghost towns while we were on vacation. This town is Grafton, Utah and it's located just outside of Zion National Park. Grafton was a Mormon settlement that didn't work and the settlers were eventually called back to Salt Lake City.
I particularly like the main cabin in this town. The trees of the exterior walls were milled in a way that showed their waves of growth. Inside, you can see the cabin was added onto twice. It had a milled floor and an attic. It must have been so hard to keep warm in the winter.
What do you think of ghost towns?