© words & music by Annie Wilson
from CD Clean Curve of Hill Against Sky

Album note: Inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening," this song describes my melancholic contemplation of the early inhabitants of the 1880's stone ruin in our pasture.  Though their efforts to farm the upland prairie seem absurd today, what age does not passionately pursue its own, later discredited dreams?

Later note:  Since writing this song, I discovered that this old ruin was the home of settlers Niclas and Marianne Maybell, originally from the Alsace-Lorraine region of France.  After living 20 years in New York and then Ohio, they homesteaded here with their three children (oldest age 20) in 1874,   Niclas and Marianne lived here until their deaths around 1905.   Maybell Creek is named after them.



This song won Second Place in the Feeling Blue category of the 2015 Walnut Valley NewSongs songwriting contest.


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Whose stones these were I'll never know 
That built this homestead long ago 
Who tried to farm this high plateau 
Of soil too thin for crops to grow 

Would they ever guess us stopping here 
Close neighbors in a hundred years 
To wonder how could time erase 
The dreams that filled their old home place 

      My little horse must wonder why 
      We've stopped here with no cows nearby 
      To wander round this pile of stones 
      That's always on our way back home 

The chimney's left, this window, too 
Its outline frames the world they knew 
Their sunrise lit with pinks and blues 
Each day's first hope too new to lose 

These lines of rocks along the ground 
An ancient barn now fallen down 
The bones of creatures there within 
Now feed the roots of tall Bluestem 

      The little creek goes winding past 
      But summer dries it up too fast 
      Was that what broke their spirit down 
      To quit and move back to the town 

Will someone pass our home some day 
And wonder of its ruins that lay 
What hopes and loves once lived within 
Those rocks gone back to Earth again 

Whose stones these were they'll never know 
Who built this home so long ago 
And lived along this high plateau 
Of prairie where the tallgrass grows