Talking to the Owl

Whew!  My life is slowly returning to normal - or at least normal for my new life.  The new house is so much nicer than my old house that we are still trying to shake the feeling that we are just staying in this lovely colonial bed and breakfast and soon vacation will end.  It’s hard to believe it’s real.  Perhaps as I get through the mountain of change of addresses, it will seem more real.  It’s funny to change the address because the only thing that changes is our address number - we still live on Great Rd, except now we live in Limerock. 

Limerock has resisted the suburbanization with mixed success, but it retains some of the neat historical charactor.  Across the street is a lovely creek that winds through a field of daylilies and underneath a stone fence.  The fence continues up the hill and into dense woods.  Right next door is an old barn that served as the stables for the Lincoln Fire Department at around the turn of the century.  The nearest intersection contains a big concrete flower bed filled with sunflowers and a sign that says, “Please don’t pick the flowers.”  No road goes strait and no intersection is at right angles. 

The house was updated sometime in the 90s by the general contractor who owned it, and he must have been well-connected at the Department of Environmental Management, because the creek passes underneath the garage.  He did a great job with all his improvements and the house is really well constructed with lots of neat features: a cedar closet, a master bath out of a design magazine, a hot tub, and (until we got there) a pool.  We had the pool taken out and now there is a gaping hole that will soon become a garden with an outdoor chess set and herbs. 

I’ve claimed a good portion of the backyard as the family soccer field and I’ve been successful so far enticing Sylvia away from PBS kids to play soccer with me.  We bought a swing set this weekend and they’ll come install it in a few weeks.  There is a fire pit and we’ve set up the plastic chairs around it and are planning our drum and guitar circle around the fire later this month.  Let the Summer fun begin!

I’m writing what may be my last blog post from from this office. I am, in a way, graduating. Graduating from my starter house to my “all grown up” house. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. It should be fun. The house is true Cape, built between 1812 and 1820. It is in the rural part of Lincoln on a route where all the mailboxes are on one side of the street. Fortunately, the mailboxes on our side. A little bog is on the other side of the road and the stream runs underneath our garage, through the backyard, and down a steep hill into a grassy marsh. Beyond the marsh is a large farm with an equestrian school and an assortment of cows that I suspect are more for decoration than food. I’m really excited, but also nervous. All the anxiety of the closing on Monday has set me on edge. Hopefully everything will go alright, and my next blog post will contain a nice walk through of the new place.  

Go back to sleep little one
the thunderstorms are blowing in the summer
it’s only thunder and it will pass
smell the fresh wet air like new grass
the fireflies are coming alive
like fairies from a Midsummer dream
the little sprites that follow our loves and lives
they will know we’re leaving this yellow house
because they can speak with the wind and rain
they will know we’re leaving this little yellow house
this yellow house where you were born
this yellow house where your sister was born