There’s nothing like a steaming mouthful of coffee to open one’s eyes. Whew! At least, I can be sure that my alimentary canal is now germ-free.
A wonderful rain lulled me to sleep last night but here it is morning, and that memorable sip of coffee fully opened my eyes. This Wednesday morning’s post is chuck full of mental wanderings. Houses are on my mind. A weighty subject, to be sure, but there they are! Each day, I get an email with listings of old houses, some historic, some nearly so, most of them large, all price ranges, everywhere across the country. As I look at them and try to imagine what it would be like to live there, I wonder about the families who once called them “home”.
Why does one get so attached to a building? Why is it such a wrench to sell a house? I remember very well the pain of selling Manos Meadows. Looking back, though, I’m glad I did. What was dearest to me was not the boards, the fireplace, the wonderful kitchen or the meadow out back with wildflowers in the spring and wispy fog in the autumn. I was fond of all these, but what really made it home were the people who lived there, the family and friends who visited. Even after a house is sold, those memories remain. They can’t be sold or given away or forgotten.
And, so, an old song keeps running through my mind, “This Old House.” Remember it? 
Seems to me, years ago, in the Dark Ages, I played the piano for a 4-H club group as they sang this song at a Talent Show in Tahlequah.
Anyway, this old house, my old house, today will ring with laughter as the Cozy Critters gather. It’s time for another critique! It’s always such fun to hear about what is happening in the lives of these friends; what books they’ve read, stories or poems they’ve written, and travels they may have made. Jane just finished with an Antique Sale so I wouldn’t be surprised if that inspired a poem. And, as a bonus, they always have terrific insight about what I can do to polish up Fright of the Silvery Moon.
Tomorrow, however, my blog will be about an upcoming book by a fellow Pen-L author, Janet K. Brown. The title of her book is Worth Forgiving. I hope you’ll take a look.
As my publisher is fond saying, “Onward!”
‘This Old House’, Blanche….such memories unfold….as an expat Brit. I am blessed to be able to return frequently to the family home in a little Cheshire village in England. My Dad’s sturdy chair still stands by the window where he had a view of the coming and going of the villagers. The 16th century pub. named the Bears Head, stood opposite our house. On sunny evenings the patrons gathered outside the pub with their pints of beer, toes tapping to the tunes drifting from our music room, where my family gathered for a musical evening. Sometimes a Bears Head patron would call out a request and we would oblige. Dad and my brothers played many instrument, but I loved to play the piano and guitar. One of my three brothers still lives in the family home, as did my ancestors for over 500 years, it still tugs the heart strings when I leave to fly back to the USA. Thank you, Blanche, you certainly have a way with words….. 🙂
Josephine, I absolutely love your stories. I remember the one about you, your husband, brother and sister-in-law crossing from Wales to Ireland and what a rough trip it was. I can just see your home there in Cheshire. How did you manage to find the courage to leave? I would miss it so! If you don’t mind, I’m going to remind my readers here and on Facebook to read your captivating comment.