I didn’t grow up in Kansas. As some of you may have discerned, I am a transplant from the Pacific Northwest, but I have roots in Kansas dating back to my great great grandparents, and now I am married into a family from Kansas calling it my home. That being said, I am often torn between these worlds as loved ones reside in both places, and I also yearn for the green, luscious and wet beauty of Portland. But, I’ve learned something interesting here. Something unexpected. I’ve discovered a different kind of beauty all together and something else that I’m still trying to grasp.
When I walked around these structures I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of connection with all the history of human being- I found myself captivated by the graceful yet dilapidated boards and the way they have come to rest by leaning on one another- the angles and seams, shadows and light…simply mesmerizing. There is something for me in these places- a part of me buried under boards and years of struggle. My heritage. Found in the middle of the continental United States. In Kansas. Sweet and unexpected treasures I’ve happened upon in my wandering. Needless to say, I’m glad I’m here:)
These are photographs which I took while on a day excursion with the family to see ghost towns in Kansas.