It’s small, as far as vacant lots go.

Despite – or perhaps because of – a lack of attention, it’s far from overgrown.

We wonder how long it’s been here, like this.

The lovely little shack at the end exudes an air of mystery.

It’s shrouded in grey brambles and guarded by greenery.

The chimney may be a little off vertical, but it’s not crooked.

It should be.

At night, we imagine, the local Little Folk and other free spirits gather here to gambol.

We drive past often.

When we do, as if to reassure ourselves that all is right with the world, we slow down, crane our necks, just to make sure everything is still in place.

It’ll be sad day for us when it isn’t.