The great thing about a calm day is that I can finally return to writing. And I do write, all the while enjoying this wonderful treat: the reappearance of sunshine!
Consider breakfast:
All those beams of light... They make such a difference during the winter. Inside and out. Suddenly, the landscape isn't monochromatic.
Where should we walk today? I ask this since, as I said, we've become rather farmette-centered and in this past week, we'd already hiked the county park trails and, too, three separate segments of our rural road.
Why don't we drive up to Lake Waubesa (less than two miles up the road) and walk along the water's edge? We can entertain ourselves by looking at the homes along the shoreline.
Ed and I like to look at other people's houses. Despite my great love for the farmhouse and his great affection for the farmette land, we always imagine how we would be living if we were starting from scratch. We find homes that more closely approximate our vision of a good set up. Most often, we find homes that are lacking in what we regard as our essentials: not too large, plenty of light, clever design, facing away from the public road onto its own private courtyard or garden.
And so it is curious that as we drive the short distance to the lake, we pass a house perched on a hill that is not unattractive and it's sporting a "for sale" sign.
Let's look! -- this from him. I'm reluctant to go up a long, private driveway.
It's allowed, if you have a for sale sign, you're inviting curious people.
I'm doubtful. Whose rules are those? Still, I turn the car toward the house.
... while the Sandhill cranes look on.
The house has at least three stellar features: plenty of windows and light, fascinating design, privacy too.
It has, of course a fatal flaw: it's too big.
But are we even considering moving?
You know I could never leave our porch behind...
And your flowers...
I'd dig up the flowers.
Isie boy would hate moving. And when we get old and can't drive, we'll just have to move again...
We get back in the car and continue toward the lake as the sun sinks lower and the colors, if not the air, grow warmer.
Our walk is grand today. Cold, but really grand. What a difference a bit of sun makes!
We look at houses, talk about improvements that could be made, and the more we talk, the greater is the surge of love for our own little piece of heaven at the farmette.
The sun has almost disappeared...
The lake is bathed in the pinks and blues of dusk.
We return home, where the landscape remains beautiful, even when the sun has long gone.
Consider breakfast:
All those beams of light... They make such a difference during the winter. Inside and out. Suddenly, the landscape isn't monochromatic.
Where should we walk today? I ask this since, as I said, we've become rather farmette-centered and in this past week, we'd already hiked the county park trails and, too, three separate segments of our rural road.
Why don't we drive up to Lake Waubesa (less than two miles up the road) and walk along the water's edge? We can entertain ourselves by looking at the homes along the shoreline.
Ed and I like to look at other people's houses. Despite my great love for the farmhouse and his great affection for the farmette land, we always imagine how we would be living if we were starting from scratch. We find homes that more closely approximate our vision of a good set up. Most often, we find homes that are lacking in what we regard as our essentials: not too large, plenty of light, clever design, facing away from the public road onto its own private courtyard or garden.
And so it is curious that as we drive the short distance to the lake, we pass a house perched on a hill that is not unattractive and it's sporting a "for sale" sign.
Let's look! -- this from him. I'm reluctant to go up a long, private driveway.
It's allowed, if you have a for sale sign, you're inviting curious people.
I'm doubtful. Whose rules are those? Still, I turn the car toward the house.
... while the Sandhill cranes look on.
The house has at least three stellar features: plenty of windows and light, fascinating design, privacy too.
It has, of course a fatal flaw: it's too big.
But are we even considering moving?
You know I could never leave our porch behind...
And your flowers...
I'd dig up the flowers.
Isie boy would hate moving. And when we get old and can't drive, we'll just have to move again...
We get back in the car and continue toward the lake as the sun sinks lower and the colors, if not the air, grow warmer.
Our walk is grand today. Cold, but really grand. What a difference a bit of sun makes!
We look at houses, talk about improvements that could be made, and the more we talk, the greater is the surge of love for our own little piece of heaven at the farmette.
The sun has almost disappeared...
The lake is bathed in the pinks and blues of dusk.
We return home, where the landscape remains beautiful, even when the sun has long gone.
