In the 1880s I can imagine how wonderful it was, can you see the blush of the raw planks?
Smell the fresh cuts?
There is still some chinking shrunken with age left between a few boards.
What was for dinner most nights?
The roof has been replaced with tin.
The flooring is almost gone.
Sunlight beams through the spaces where chinking should be. On a cold windy day there is nothing to stop the chilly fingers of winter from entering inside.
Being able to visit a place like this with out being told "no touching" is a gift. Placing a hand on the wall, half closing my eyes, a story begins to form.
Who do you think might have lived here?