Surprise! It survived another winter, withstood the snow and wind to live another season.
The shed is part of an old farmstead in a nearby rural community. The place is abandoned, with no trespassing signs on the driveway to the house. Even the house is looking the worse for wear.
The shed itself is well photographed. We often observe people stopped to take pictures in the summer, as have we, when the vines are green. Today, they are knotted, brown gray rope, randomly attached to the shed,
held in place by miniature tendrils, unseen from a distance. They withstand the high winds, clinging to the shed for dear life.
The roof collapsed in the center first, where there was the least support. A close-up shows how the shingles have disintegrated.
The hobbit-like door probably caused a few knocks to heads over the years. Mice and other animals don't mind though.
My favourite part of the shed is the window on the windward side.
The glass is long gone, now just a gaping mouth with fang-like splinters of wood hanging from the top. The vines, like strings of hair, fall around it.
What do you think it utters in the long hours it spends alone in the elements?