Trust the Tree

Imagine the scene ... it was June 2002, and my husband and I were at the end of our third trip to this house with our realtor.  In addition to the purchase price, we did what we could to mentally tally up a list of the renovations that we thought the place would need ... roof, paint removal, plaster repair, floor refinishing, masonry, HVAC, electrical, kitchen, bathrooms, the list goes on ... I think both of us were overwhelmed at the prospect.  

As we stood on the deck that day and talked about it, knowing that we had to make a decision, I kept looking at the huge tree in the yard ... imagining what that tree had seen in its life, how it sheltered the house with its dominating presence, and picturing how (or if) I would be a part of its next chapter.

View from the deck today at about mid-morning.

How could we be sure that this would be our forever home?  The tree whispered to me, I swear it did, and I knew that this was home.  

Thirteen years ago, during the first week of January 2003, three months after settlement, I put the first hammer and pry bar to this place.  I like to think that the tree had no way to know about all the additional things we would find that the house needed ... how our two-year plan to renovate and move in would stretch to five years, with a nonstop parade of projects continuing since then.  If it did know, it wasn't letting on.

It is, after all, just a tree.

Sunday Snapshot ... A Winter View

In the morning, while I drink coffee and eat breakfast, I am often in this spot at the end of the peninsula counter between our kitchen and dining room.

From here, this is the view that I have to my left, through the west-facing dining room window.

The ancient pecan tree you see has shaded the back of our house since the beginning, I imagine.  (our house was built in 1848.)  At any given time, we see a large and varied number of birds, and a squirrel or two, doing something within its branches.

My Rambler Fence rose garden is on the left, just past the driveway.  There's nothing to see there in winter, because the roses are sleeping.  In the distance, you see the winter view of our barn ... 200 yards from the house. 

The stained glass (which is where my Hartwood Roses logo came from), ironstone pitcher, and cat bed (where cats sit to watch the birds and squirrels in the tree) complete the scene.  A perfect little snapshot of so many of the things that I love, all in one image.

Used the Waterlogue app to do something artsy with the image.

Today is chilly, winter-like at last.  I plan to spend a little bit of time outside in the sunshine, tidying up one of my gardens.  After that, the afternoon will be devoted to football watching.

What are your plans for today?

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Sunday Snapshots are posts devoted to moments in time that represent glimpses into everyday life in Hartwood, or wherever else I happen to be at the time.