This house speaks in whispers telling of past families and memories. It so fills me with inspiration every time we pass it. I want to live there, to make a fire in the hearth, to grow something in the solarium. I want to hang clothes on the line and tend to the chickens. This 1907 house is supposedly inhabited by six people according to the internet but it looks abandoned. Short stories and poems flow from its bones and I long to start a garden and trim the weeds so that one can see the wrought iron gate as they pass the statuesque frame of home.
Ahh, I wish.
The house we are staying at is enchanted. A raccoon visits each evening. Margie has dubbed her “Miko”. She won’t come too close, just to the end of a pizza crust.
I wasn’t too pleased with her this morning though! We left our windows down in the truck. Doug called me down to take a look at my seat this morning. The vandal had opened a grocery bag of rotten leftovers and soup. We wondered who would have done such a thing. She had rifled through everything in the truck and left her telling, adorable hand prints on everything! I knew immediately who the culprit was.
Thus far, we have run into some dead ends regarding jobs but we won’t give up. I imagine we will end up in Denver, Doug hopes to stay out here. We’ll see. Today we have food, clothes, shelter, transportation, health, family, friends, and a little change. And though we have little else, we have the stuff that makes us rich.