The Silo of Poetic Despair

I took these photos a few days ago, meaning to write about a silo down the street from our church. It’s surrounded on four sides: by warehouses, a Lutheran church, an empty lot, and a busy street. The property used to be a nursery (started by the family that used to farm the land?) but the property is now for sale.

Which just adds to its lonely, abandoned feeling. These photos are just so darn sad-looking. It didn’t help that it was a cloudy day.


IMG_3697A silo stands alone, in the midst of an overgrown, forgotten lot against a gathering storm…!

IMG_3699See the gaping holes in this silo’s broken heart…

(Don’t you love my dramatic interpretations?)

IMG_3709Held together by rusting tendons of days gone by…

IMG_3710And discarded remnants of a happier past.


A window of hope, opening up on a bright sky!

(Much as I was tempted, I decided against climbing the ladder, despite a chance for some phenomenal shots of the surrounding countrysi… er, suburbia.)

IMG_3711Where once were young trees and perennials, now grow only the weeds of resentment and despair…

IMG_3721Goodbye old silo. Thanks for being a sign of poetic grief and lonely mortality.

Ah suburbia. A constant font of artistic inspiration. Who knew?