The (fuzzy) listing photo of our house, October 2013; when we saw it for the first time:
Front yard now, circa July 2015:
Plants (and shutters!) make all the difference. I’m still scheming about how to improve the exterior. I desperately want a new front door (I can’t wait to toss that storm door), and I’d love to completely renovate the front stoop (get rid of that concrete and use slate slabs and beef up those skinny columns) and the old concrete front walk. So many plans, so few monies…
In the summer, we take our time. We talk about the plants, the chickens, the dogs. We eat slowly. We read poems on the back deck if we want to. We sweep the kitchen again. We slide over the clouds of dog fur. We pick little theoretical fights with each other about politics, religion, or art, each of us playing devil’s advocate to the other’s position, just to make it more interesting. We dream up far-fetched home renovation plans. We fail to keep the mosquitoes away, and we never remember to put on enough sunscreen.
And I can’t help but think, every evening, Ah, we can do all of these things because we are childless.
One day, perhaps, our freedom will be interrupted. And one day, perhaps, we will welcome that interruption. But for now, we are free and content and we recognize and appreciate that.
Little Stories 