The Old Houses of Ward’s Island

There’s something timeless about stepping onto Ward’s Island — like the city fades away and a softer, slower world takes over. Bob took his camera along for a walk through the narrow paths that wind between the island’s cottages, each one telling its own quiet story.

The first house he photographed stood bright under the trees, the sunlight cutting through branches to paint shifting shadows across its white siding. It looked like the kind of home that had seen a lot of summers — the kind where the porch smells of pine and coffee in the morning.

A few steps farther, another cottage caught Bob’s attention. Its weathered door and old-fashioned trim hinted at decades of care and repair. You could almost picture someone sitting on the porch, watching the lake breeze move through the leaves.

Then came the last one — darker, older, and full of character. The brick walls and creaky steps spoke of endurance, and the faded curtains in the windows seemed to whisper stories from long ago. This house might not be polished, but it had heart.

Each photo Bob took wasn’t just about architecture — it was about time. About how places, like people, wear their years in different ways. On Ward’s Island, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the rustle of leaves, Bob saw a small world that remembers.

Every old house there is a story waiting to be told — and Bob’s camera was listening.