She is like so many of her kind, but yet so different. She rests on a hill with a majestic view of the surrounding countryside. I see her each day as I drive into Smalltownland. Depending on the season, she looks a bit different.
Today she has her doors flung wide open to remove any moisture from the leaves that hang on her outstretched beams. From my vantage point she always seems to taunt me. Daring me to drive up the hillside to pay her a visit.
With her doors open I ventured inside and was enveloped in a heady aroma of tobacco.
As my eyes shifted upwards, I saw that no space of her timeless structure had been wasted.
And so I left her in silence to do her seasonal duty.
Already thinking that this is just the first of many visits to come.