I found myself in a time that I needed to go back to the place I was born. Looking for I don't know what, needing to walk the roads, smell the air, see the familiar trees, the barns, the house.
My brother and his wife own it now-the place I wrote about in the post, "A feather, caught."
They have worked so hard on this place that we all love. Our dad built that house. He actually cut the trees and had them sawed up to build it.
The old milk barn is not owned by our family now. It's down the road about a minute's walk from the house. I spent a lot of time there when I was a kid-my brother too, of course. Now I just love the rustic beauty, the time shown in the barn's 'face' - like beautiful wrinkles.
I will paint from my photos.
This is the other barn, near my brother and his wife's house. They restored the barn-made sure it will last another 100 years or more.
I came back because I needed to look out in order to look within.
My brother made the pond bigger. This is where our grandpa took us fishing. The farm dog, Lassie, was always with us. We never kept the fish we caught.
When I was a child, I saw this. I saw those hills.
Here are the remnants of the same lilac bush where my daddy found me and played tea party with me. I know my brother saved what he could of it, because I told him that memory. We treasure those memories; to remember is to hear his voice, see him again. It's been so long since our Dad passed, and my brother was too young to remember him. So my memories are important to him too.
I love that about my brother.
Where is home?
It's full of people and laughter, some tears.
It's always inside somewhere
longing to get out again and play.
A place protected from time~
it's in your heart...