In the first picture, top left you will see the chicken coop which sits in front of the porch of the newer home Oscar Blevins built in the 1950's for he and his wife Ermon. The door to the coop was actually opened and my brother and I went inside. You can still see chicken droppings on the floor. Next is the Corn Crib... I opened the door to it and peeked in. The door lock consisted of a piece of wood attached to the left side of the door, it slides and releases or locks the door. When I opened it and peeked inside it was mostly dark with rays of sun light shining through the gaps in the wood structure. I had an eerie feeling which made me shudder while looking inside. I also heard a muffled sound which my brother claims were pigeons but I saw no birds and it didn't sound like birds to me. It scared me so bad that I quickly locked the door and moved on. In a lot of the photos you will see the split rail fence that I was very interested in. As I walked around noting the hard work Oscar must have done on the farm I had a feeling of sadness... For him to have lived here for 50 years and then have his home snatched out from under him must have been very hard for him to endure. It was his home, he built it with his own sweat and it was the only life he knew. In the last photo, bottom right, we saw a tree with a can of some sort in it. The can was rusted and the tree appears to be very old. My brother and I stood there looking at this can wondering what Oscar might have used it for. The tree is located half way between the chicken coop and the log cabin. One can tell by looking at it that the can has been there many, many years by the rust on it. We peeked inside but nothing was there except more rust and a bit of water from an earlier rain. The doors and the windows of both homes are boarded up with signs to keep out. On the log cabin, the original home, one window is left open and we peeked inside...it was so dark except for rays of sunlight pouring through the cracks of the wood. But we could tell it was all one very large room with only what appeared to be a chair at the far end of the home closest to the barn. The farm is used today still for crops the park grows and the pastures for their horses. The barn is also used for hay to feed them. On my second visit to the farm I felt like I was going home. I love this farm so much and I really don't know why it affected me as it did, maybe because I just feel the pain and torment that Mr. Blevins must have felt when his home was taken from him. I know I probably wasn't suppose to but I took two very small stones from the driveway of the Blevins farm which I keep here on my computer desk, reminding me of a man who once lived and endured much.