Back in the day when I was a kid, we kept our horses up the road in a hidden pasture back behind some trees. There was an old homestead up there that had long been abandoned. The current owners occasionally visited for a week or two in the summer months, using it as a little vacation retreat. But a few years ago we had a great, heavy snow, and the old house simply couldn't withstand the weight. Through the bareness of the winter trees, I could make out it's collapsed roof and silently mourned. It had been such a lovely place to ride past, with lilac trees surrounding it and old roses climbing the nearby trees. And now, at least from the road, it appeared to be nothing more than a pile of rubble, with just one wall left standing.