Greenhouse or Fun House?

Often when seeking a place to photograph, I never find one. I usually find them along the side of the road when I’m on a time constraint to get to my location and all I can do is heavily sigh or let out a drawn “aww man” while I zip by.

This place however I found on my random drives looking for a place to shoot. When I first came down the road, all I could see was the top arches of a massive greenhouse, and the ripped liner whipping above in the wind.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and my heart started to race, pumping adrenaline through my veins. The idea of an abandoned greenhouse was something I didn’t think I would find in my local area let alone at all.
Once I was in front of it, I noticed adjacent to the greenhouse arches, was a small overhead with lattice strewn about. But no matter how hard I looked; I didn’t see a single no trespassing sign.

I decided to go explore the property. Once I got inside, I was greeted by a thick, luscious wave of overgrown ferns and ivy. There was a wicker chair just barely recognizable for the plants had completely woven themselves through each layer. There was a run-down gazebo, and old wooden shelves that resembled stairs; to hold plants no doubt. The next section was hard to decipher because of the immense growth. Parallel tables ran from both the left and right sides, only to be greeted by a large fan installed in the wall, rusted in place. The tables were made from wood and wire, rotting and buckling under the weight of the natural landscape reclaiming its territory.
The narrow path that led between the sea of tables was full of thickets and vines, making it extremely hard to get through. I did notice was looked like a window, so I knew I had to get through the mess to cure my incessant curiosity.
A few unflattering words, a ton of cuts, and a good portion of the thickets attached to my hair, I found a door frame. I made my way inside to be welcomed by humidity and mosquitoes. A few stairs, wide enough for 3-4 shoulder width met a large platform in the center of the room.
The platform had a wire made Christmas tree strewn on the floor, with scraps of ribbon, trash, and shattered decorations. A crudely made staircase against the wall led to the loft. I wasn’t trusting enough to go into the loft.
Around the platform however, besides a decomposing chair amongst the trash and graffiti, there was a pyramid type mound of, dusty, once bright colored ribbons, string, and twine. An old fridge broken sits in the corner just around the bend. American flags strewn about; glass shards shine across the concrete floors.

A single sign, forever imprinted on my brain.
“Plantry”