Charlie's little limestone home has been around since the days of the Indian Raids in Kansas, and history is part of its allure. Inside, there's a 40s refrigerator (the type with the round vent on top), a wood burning stove still used as their sole means of cooking meals, and an enormous log in the middle of the kitchen for preparing meals and cutting. Everywhere are images of buffalo and the Native Americans he so admires. On the stair steps there are hoof prints; he tells a pretty elaborate story of how someone had gotten the idea to ride a horse up the stairs, but the punchline of the whole thing seems to be lost in the verbal tradition; just how did that horse get back down the steps, I ponder. There aren't any hoof prints in the other direction. I love this place; there might be people who dream dreams of new homes in suburban subdivisions, of mansions by the sea, but for me, this place is absolute perfection.
More after the break...
