|A blushing spider at the outer left petals... nearly perfectly camouflaged in my favorite peony.|
|Another early reader. With good taste in books. No, really.|
|The irises I didn't plant, didn't hope for as I did the peonies, but their heavenly fragrance redeems them greatly.|
|A little stage fright.|
|My old guy and my preppy-cool cowgirl.|
|Not so much with the stage fright.|
|I am learning to love the flaws and humility of my new farmhouse. Even before we can paint it.|
On the flipside there is insulation in the unfinished attic and if you are on the underneath of 150 pounds you can play on that temporary floor all you like. Generations before us would have called it palatial, this mill cabin of mine. Underneath our house are stumps, some of which hold it up. (Unless you are an appraiser in which case it is a perfectly modern perimeter foundation.)
Anywhat this house has sheltered families through the Great Depression and maybe worse and I am so grateful for it and the cozy sweet history in which we live. The future can bring what it will: ready or not.
|Don 't worry, she brightened right up under the stage lights.|
|Oh dear, there are those plaid Bermuda shorts again. They call to mind the yellow shortalls of last summer.|
|Madeleine and her sweet friend always ready to tap.|
What does simple living mean to you?