We are moving again.
Exchanging a 100 year old house full of character and charm for one where water doesn’t drip from the ceilings at random intervals. Giving up twelve glorious acres, but giving Garrett back two of the hours he spends commuting every day. And packing up my studio, which had a wall of windows overlooking the creek (but practically no heat), for a corner of the basement.
If I sound melancholy I suppose I am; I really wanted this place to work out and even had little fantasies about buying it someday, even if my practical self knew that it was a terrible idea. In the end our landlord made the decision for us, by dragging his feet so long on the necessary repairs that we felt like we couldn’t continue to raise our family here.
But if we can ignore its mechanical failures, this place has a presence, a patina, that only time can create. There is an air of fading grandeur which I quite enjoy. The old landscaping is overgrown and mysterious. Perfect for hide and seek. Perfect for prowling about with my camera. Luckily I took thousands of pictures here, enough artistic inspiration for the next decade is cached away on my hard drive.
Our new home is in a charming little town. It is brand-spanking new, so what it lacks in patina, it should make up for in functionality. We’ll be minutes from coffee shops, restaurants, and the quilt shop that has supported my creativity for the past 4 years. It’s going to be awesome. And as soon as we get there I intend to begin enjoying all those perks.
But for now, for our last days here, let me dwell a bit in the beauty and grace of this lovely old place. We’ve made a lot of memories in our short time here.
So I offer up some of my favorite photos from this place, closing the book on this little chapter of our family’s history. Goodbye, house! I won’t forget you!
I posted more of my favorite photos from this place here.
