Though I have called many houses home,
one looms soft in my mind and heart.
Red brick and tin roof,
housing laughter, devotion, and discipline.
Outbuildings all for the quick feet of exploring youth,
cows, cats, chickens, and free range kids
with a wood and a river to expand our heroic adventures.
An apple tree to write poetry in,
snowball trees to blossom and blow to the wind,
a currant bush to pick and pucker,
and many a roof to scamper on, defying gravity and powerlines.
It was and is in my heart home.
Perfect childhood home!
And we would have never thought about locking our doors. Different world.
In an enjoyable poem I particularly liked ‘a currant bush to pick and pucker’. I wish that I had written that line myself.
What fabulous memories you have of home! I love the “free range kids” line.
Not totally organic, though.
Beautiful, love the photo too.
Taken with my old 110 in the 70s in a snowstorm.
A heartwarming post, I love old photos so much more atmosphere then digital, you don’t need clarity for a warm and fuzzy memory!
Thanks. This is one of my favorite old pics of the homestead. I have an 8 x 10 blown up in my office that looks almost like a watercolor.