My town started out as a village, the nice place to live without the rowdy saloons and brothels near the mountain. And as it grew it swallowed up the nearby villages to become a city. But if a village is distant enough to the city, it stays a village, like this one I visited this past week.
The retired horse-drawn farm implements of the past reinforce the bucolic setting.
I don’t know if this was a livery stable, garage, or store, but I look at it and think that it would do admirably as an artist’s studio. If only it was nearer to town. Although if it was nearer to town, it would probably have already been torn down and replaced.
This former store is still full of stuff, saved for a rainy day perhaps? Or perhaps it was just too much work to get rid of things.
This village is still here, but the train that served it is gone. I suspect that some of the residents make the long commute into town to work. And at some point in the distant future, the city will come to swallow this place up as well.