I thought it about time I dug out from under ceiling texture, drywall powder, and sawdust to say hello to y’all.
Basically, I just missed you. Have I told you lately that I love you? (Thank you, Rod Stewart.)
As you may know, I took a blog break this summer, mostly due to our family’s move from our city house to our country house. And while we’re all moved into our new (to us) home, we’re still under construction for the master bedroom/bath addition. (Tip: Anytime someone gives you a construction time estimate, add a couple months and multiply it by 2. I know of what I speak.)
This is my future office. Isn’t it dreamy? *eye roll emoji* Alas, it will be someday! In the meantime, there’s plenty to enjoy at our new place, like this little corner of our covered porch.
We have an open meadow next to our house, and in an unassuming corner of it we placed a bench. When my sons and I plopped it down under an open-armed pine, I thought we were setting it in the middle of nowhere. But the more I sit on that bench, the more I realize it’s in the middle of everything.
I wish you could sit on it with me and hear the wind through the decades-old pine trees. The sound breaks the quiet in the most whisper-gentle way. The wind rises and catch the pine branches, and the sound crescendos and decrescendos in one long, smooth pattern. I suppose it’s the sea shore’s equal to the reassuring sound of the steady surf.
(All readers, it may take a moment or two for the video to load.)
That sound has become the metronome of our days, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it. As one who grew up in the country then lived for over 20 years in big cities (or a tiny island) in everything from an apartment to a condo to on-base duplexes to suburban homes, this place is very much like coming home.
We have yet to meet any of our neighbors. I had hoped one or two of them would saunter up our front walk and introduce themselves, especially since one or two of them have girls my daughter’s age. Alas, no such thing