Sunday, April 24, 2016

What Will Be Left Behind

For the past twenty years, when I turned onto my street at night, the singular yellow street light on a very long block marked my driveway (and a fire hydrant).  It seemed like a little blessing as if I somehow deserved a special welcome home light.  As I prepare to put my home on the market this spring, I have been intentionally watching for the lovely things that I have been gifted by this home and which I shall miss.     

Chives, my little cat, sunning on the old stool that I use when I prune the grape arbor.

The spring exuberance of the hens and chicks in the early morning light.

The popping open of the Oriental poppies.  When the big green buds come close to bursting, one can pull the green sheath open just the tiniest amount and the flower will burst out with a whoosh.

I shall miss the little pathway that leads to the stream.  The willow becomes so dense at times, that the way is obscured.  I have sent my company out to the table by the stream with them balancing their dinner plates and they have returned plates still in hand - discouraged at being lost in such a small yard. 

I will miss that big old willow by the stream.  From the house, I love watching it wave in the wind and once a hot air balloon scraped across its top.  My daughter learned to climb it with tree climbing gear and visiting children and I would swing out over the water by sitting in its little metal swing.  

The stream.  Its gurgle has been a satisfying backdrop to hours of weeding, the movement of the hammock and the labor of picking raspberries. When I bought the house, ever so long ago, the six letter word "stream" in the ad was the singular motive for looking at the house.   As I move away to my cabin, where I can hear the river, I will know that a portion of that river's water will tumble by this lovely old house and yard.  I could send the house notes of fond remembrance on the currents.  

I shall miss the strawberry bed and strawberry rhubarb pie.

Maybe I shall even miss the mowing.  It is my weekly forty minutes of aerobic exercise.  I suppose the I could offer the new owners mowing services.  Maybe.