Abandoned drive-in movie theater. Looks like the Ents have adopted it.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
I only lately get the significance of this introduction. Hobbits don’t live on mountaintops, nor along grand beaches, not in great stone castles or towers. They live in the meanest, lowest places imaginable. But because of what they value, because of the work they exert on maintaining their homes, a Hobbit hole is the very nicest place you can imagine being. A place you always want to go back to, no matter what marvelous sort of adventure you trek off on.
Soon all we’ll need is a round front door.