my love affair with an old house

Nearly 20 years ago, we were out for a Sunday drive around the rolling foot hills

of the high desert,

looking for abandoned homesteads of those brave souls who stopped here

on their way along the Oregon Trail instead

of going on to the fertile & lush Willamette Valley. I remember very well, the very moment when coming around the steep bend in the dirt road and finding her there...

and the catch in my throat!

She rose up from the pasture in once splendid elegance.

Her windows looked out with hopeful eyes.

"I don't often speak to strangers", she confided, "but you"...she said,

"I know you". "Never mind that the cows come and go through my open doors and gaze out from broken windows while they thoughtfully chew their cud... come live with me", she said. "My rooms are waiting for love letters in every corner. Your lovely Mt. Jefferson can be seen from my every window. My fireside has a place for your chair and your ever present stack of books.

The comforting pat of your grand children's little bare feet

running up and down would be most welcome here.

The sounds & smell of Sunday dinner being made, laughter coming from the kitchen,

the scent of the sagebrush gently blowing sheets behind me on the line...

Come live with me, she says. I'll plant a rose by the kitchen door.