Wyoming '99: Wednesday
After visiting the old Holliday place, we took off up the road a little further to have a look at where the neighbors had lived. They were the Murchlands.
This is the only wall of this house that's still completely intact. The roof has caved in; we startled a field mouse that had been living inside, under an overturned stove. (He ran off shouting something about a quote from Robert Burns.) There's a well inside the house too, maybe two and a half feet across, lined with the same concrete-aggregate stuff that the house is made of.
Not too far up the road is a tiny square monument lined with the same stuff, inside which is an engraved stone marking the graves of two infant Murchlands and a toddler, all from the 1870s. It must have been a crushing blow to move out to Wyoming, far from anywhere specific, and have three children die one after another.
The house is tucked away under these trees. (Click on the picture for a bigger version.) Following old pioneer practice, the Murchlands had planted the trees as a windbreak for their home. One of the trees was an apple tree, which had little green apples all over it when we were there. We plucked a couple for the kids--they were tart, but tasty. Doug finished his and immediately wanted more. I bet he could have sat happily in that tree all afternoon, munching away on little green apples.