Sunday, February 6, 2011
I love my parents' house. I love that there is no way to get into it without crossing a stream, sneaking through trees, or wandering through the rose garden. I love the pond, the fish, and the ducks. I love the waterlilies and the the bog iris. I love the ivy that has matured into a lush blanket across the entryway. I love the flowers, the leaves, and the life. I love the burning bushes, the columbines, the rosebuds, and the trees. I love the scrub oak. I love the aspens (especially the one that arches over the deck). I love that we've built everything in the yard from scratch: the pond, the walkways, the decks, the gazebo, the stairs, the firepit, the stream.