Monday, August 22, 2011

The Little White House by the Side of the Road

OK, I’ve not been swamped with requests, but there have been a few, along the lines of what L. said, that as a non-dog person, she would have liked to see a photo of the house that I moved from in the last post, rather than yet another photo of the dog. 

Somewhere amongst my papers I have a small photo of the little white house by the side of the road when Dan and I bought it, but I can’t seem to find it, and this blog is about moving on, isn’t it, not about rummaging around looking for old photos. 

So here’s what I offer for the house I moved from in Scary Thing #1. I took this photo as a record of the yard renovation I was having done, adding gardens to the front in an effort not to mow so much (joke on me, gardens take much more time than mowing lawn). At the left is part of the attached garage, an amenity I now lack. The white building that can be partly seen through the trees on the right is the home of my neighbor who bow-hunted (still does, I assume) (see last post). 

The front part of the house was originally the one-room schoolhouse until the districts were consolidated in the 1960s. Only one family had owned it before us, and they had added onto it, including the half-story upstairs. As I said in the last post, we redid practically every inch of this house and the outdoors too, but we could never figure out how to get that @#* eagle off the front, which the sellers had bequeathed to us, so we just left it there. 

At Christmas I took to wrapping the little front porch in chili pepper lights—never mind. Here it is, what is no longer mine. 


  1. like the eagle...LOVE the post, as always!

  2. Geez, I'd always loved the eagle and wondered that you's thought to put it there!

  3. We think that we'll never move on -- and then we do. Amazing, isn't it?

  4. Nice string of posts on Dan & the house, which I'm sorry I never got to see.


  5. Debby, I just love your blog. You say so much of what I feel and have felt over this past 16 months of being a widow. Jim and I were married 53 years and while he had fought Parkinson's disease for nearly 25 years, his body and spirit remained tough. Then one Sunday morning he woke up, sat on the edge of the bed, passed out and died. Jim graduated to heaven in less time than it takes to write about it. That is the reason I so enjoy your blog. You are doing what I cannot. I'd like to blog about being a widow but the tears always come and I decide it's not yet time. Thank you for being so brave because I am not.