kipsnaps
This Old House
All the best fairytales begin with once upon a time and end with happily ever after; that much is as easy as daisy chains. It’s the middles, the worrisome, jinxy, illogical middles that matter. This is the old house from the middles of fairytales. It creeps with legend, it creaks with fantasy.
Jack was born here, Jack who sold his cow for beans, Jack who slayed giants. Witches twisted the vines that hold the roof together, they bent the petioles that stop it from flying far, far away. The foundations are fixed on chicken legs and the rafters are woven from crows wings. It was here that the miller’s sweet damsel was cursed to spin gold, and a downtrodden stepdaughter swept the crooked hearth.
But in the very real world this old house was once fresh framed and new built. A family was raised here. On many mornings the stove was lit, for many years a garden was planted. Understand that in time everything grows old, everything falls apart; and that my dears is why we need fairytales, why we must keep believing in magic beans, why we choose to see beauty in a picture of an old house, and why we believe in happily ever after.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Rachel Irving and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
