The Hinckley property is a large area of neglected land. Orange, grapefruit, and avocado trees grow unkempt there. Ducks and red-winged blackbirds skitter across a series of irrigation ponds. Rabbits and squirrels dart between the rusted water tanks and windmills that punctuate the land.
A small group of out-buildings, formerly used to store and service the equipment that managed the farm, have since been home to caretakers, migrant workers, gang members and even one man who, according to legend, bought and sold body parts from there.
In short, it is a beautiful, ominous place, cross between wildlife habitat and junkyard, just possibly the perfect setting for a "no one can hear you if you scream" horror flick.
It wasn't always a mess, but the owner died, and his brother cannot make a living from it. In order to sell the property, the brother has to level the whole area to the smooth, concrete-friendly surface that developers require.
At least that is what the caretaker told me the last time I went there to shoot pictures. He is charged with cutting down all the trees.
It is a shame, but inevitable, I suppose, that no land can lay this idle, this perfectly decayed for too long. Here are some pictures I have taken there recently.
