This Old House

I read a quote last night that got me thinking.

Thinking about this old place, and my sentimental attachment to it.

I've always loved the idea of flipping houses - I've never done it - but I like hard work, and I love taking something ramshackly and making it lovely - so I think I'd be a heck of a flipper.

But not this place.

There is no flipping here.

There is coddling, loving, tending, repairing, but no flipping.

This is my soul's resting place.

I tease when I talk about selling it - that there would be a stringent interview process.

"Do you plan on keeping chickens?"

"Will you garden organically?"

"What's that?  You don't plan on gardening?"

"Hmmm...I'm sorry - I don't feel that this is the house for you."

Here's a picture of the back yard when we first bought the place.  

Here's what I wrote about it in a blog post a few years ago:

As I walked around, I envisioned chickens scratching, and quilts on the clothesline. Sweating glasses of iced tea and herb gardens. Laughter and memories. Glen envisioned a lot of trips to Home Depot, power tools, and endless hours of hard labor. Go figure.

Here's that same spot now:

Seems that we were both right with our visions.

This house has been more than a place of shelter for me - it's been a refuge.  It's taught me life lessons that I don't feel that a new house could have taught me.

It taught me that broken things are worth saving, and are worth the time it takes to fix.

It taught me that most things in life - like people - are not 'all bad' or 'all good'.  There are no absolutes. Except maybe for bacon - because bacon is absolutely delicious.  OK, and coffee - but sometimes you can have bad coffee - where, I don't recall ever having bad bacon.

This house has wonderful qualities, charm, vignettes of delight, and yet a basement that would make your hair stand on end.

It's taught me over and over that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing right - even if that's the long way around.

It's taught me that sometimes age and time do indeed make some things better, but at times a can of gas and a match make them even better. 

: -)

Not that I know anything about burning things around here.

But more importantly, it's taught me that life is never finished.  It goes on and on, whether or not we are around to enjoy or endure it - whatever your perspective might be on that subject.

I have already made this place better than when I found it, and it's my hope, dream and goal to leave it as a legacy of love - standing strong against the storms of life, a refuge, a place of serenity to the weary soul.

Please know y'all are more than welcome to visit anytime.

I will put you to work - but there will be bacon and coffee a plenty.

Here's the quote that got me thinking about this wonderful old place, and my love for it.

Only he can understand what a farm is, what a country is, who shall have sacrificed part of himself to his farm or country, fought to save it, struggled to make it beautiful. Only then will the love of farm or country fill his heart.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery