Going nowhere.

Nothing to see here.

Simple math.

old buildings + lush ivy + obscured entryways = ❤

No more pencils, no more books.

While most schools are buzzing with kids this time of year, this particular educational institution sits, silent, on a hilltop in Cambridge, Ontario.

Dickson Public School closed in 2014 due to its age and a dwindling student population. It had served the community for nearly 140 years.

The building is beautiful, constructed of local cut limestone in a simple but pleasing design. It’s situated on the west side of the Grand River, a focal point in a neighbourhood of historic homes and architecture.

Apologies for the harsh shadows in these photos. The weather was definitely agreeable for a visit, but I wasn’t able to capture the front of the building without some interference from the sun.

I’d been hoping for some grand front doors to go along with the rest of the design. The arched front porch is lovely, but the bland, industrial entrance was a bit of a disappointment.

The building has been empty for three years, but fortunately there are plans to redevelop the site into modern office space, along with the addition of a new 10-unit townhouse complex on the property. The developer intends to preserve both the exterior of the school and many of the unique and historic interior features.

I get a little dreamy when I wander around old buildings, wondering about times gone by. The generations of schoolkids who once roamed these empty halls, their laughter echoing over this deserted playground. Sadly, round the back, there are reminders of some of the harsh realities of today.

Time will tell what changes are to come.

P.S.
If you’d like to look at more interesting entryways, be sure to visit Norm 2.0 for his weekly feature, Thursday Doors.

When things fall apart.

With a focus on textures today, these photos come to you from a deserted industrial building in Hespeler, Ontario.

Creepy? Sure.

Intriguing? Yes – that, too (to me, at least).

I don’t know if I can really explain what appeals to me about these sites.

Our abandoned structures are what remain – at least until they’re broken down and swallowed up, too – when the world has moved on.

Maybe they serve to remind us of all that’s fleeting and finite.

For more photos of interesting textures (most of which are probably not as sad and sinister-looking as these), visit Narami for the Tuesdays of Texture weekly feature. Thanks, as always, for stopping by.

A touch of melancholy.

Yesterday was mild but somewhat grey and gloomy – exactly the kind of day to feed my fascination with old, abandoned buildings.

 

In the Doon region of Kitchener, I came across tiny Wesleyan Methodist Church, built in 1868, on a dead-end street near the Grand River.

Church doors are often beautiful – even simple, modest ones have an element of grace. If I’m to assume there was once an air of welcome here, it’s been wiped out by neglect, the passage of time, and the bar currently bolted across the entrance.

 

I read a little about the building here and here. In 1925, it became a United Church, but regular services were no longer offered after 1960.

Apparently the building was sold in 1984, but my brief online search didn’t turn up the identity of the current owner. The structure still stands, but sadly, it’s deteriorating.

 

Real human beings – ones we’ll never know – laboured to raise this building. They used their hands to lay these bricks and paint these walls.

How quickly our constructs fade and crumble when, for one reason or another, we no longer maintain them.

 

Thanks for stopping by. Check out all the doors (likely more cheerful than this one) shared by this week’s contributors over at Norm 2.o.

Somewhat unexpected.

Not your typical woodland artifact.