Along a lane, in a gorgeous little town I call my very own, I happened upon this charming house this past weekend. The road is one I used to take every day to go to kindergarten, those many years ago. After a very successful meeting that had me grinning like a Cheshire cat, not that I like cats, just this analogy, I was nearly skipping along the road when this house looked like it would fall apart to a deep breath. It looked like it welcomed all gusts of winds, all insects that flew by and all the freckles of sunlight within its cracks on the rooftop. It looked like this house had many stories housed within it, stories from a time when the world looked like this photograph does.
These are the kind of houses I most love.