I was kinda the odd man out.

Even though I was guiding the tour.

Me. The museum director. The museum planner. And a photo archivist.

We'd actually discussed this tour over a year ago. And like so many things in life, it got put on a back burner. At least until the weather got nice again.

The director called me last month, and asked if we could make the tour now.

And so we did.

They were impressed.

But I was surprised there was relatively little ooohing and aaaahing over the signature walls themselves.

They were, after all, the point of the whole tour. But these walls are a challenge, a task for these folks. You could see the wheels turning, and hear the conversations rolling about where they could be displayed. Who might have money for this, assistance for that.

Yeah, they were excited.

Professionally.

But what turned these three grown-up professionals back into little kids was exploring the rest of the buildings. They were incredulous that the things were still standing, still in such interestingly decrepit state.

They liked the sunlight through the slats of the stripped roofs.

They liked the old domed doors.

They even liked the pack rat. Although, they were less enthused when I joked about hantavirus, and then had to explain that yes, we have that disease here in this part of the county.

I wouldn't kick up too much of this dust.

They liked the views.

I had to point out the old Victorian windows near the ceiling.

But, oddly, they were most excited, to the point of going back for a second look under different light, with this:

The old washing machine in the bunkhouse.