And sign up to receive the Books Leaving Footprints Newsletter. Comes out occasionally. No spam. No list swapping. Just email me! jhyshark@gmail.com Previous gifts include a short story, a poem, and coupons. Add your name, and don't miss out!

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Memory- Points to Hold

 
Yesterday, you saw some of the changes happening across the road from me. Today, I learned that a favorite tree of mine has been cut down. Yeah, it was geriatric and probably dangerous, but I liked it. A few days ago I shared an aerial view of our previous house here, which is now gone. The dorm I lived in for my college years is gone. The first two houses Omer and I lived in are gone- one demolished and one burned (neither of those when we were still living there).

I know that nothing in this world lasts, or even really matters. And yet, I feel a strong connection with the house I grew up in, the one my grandfather built. If something happens to it, I'm going to feel a true sense of loss, even though the barn is gone, the property is sold several times over, and my dad's garden is now a workshop and swimming pool.

Pulled this off Google Street View, so I'm pretty certain that unless something serious has happened quite recently, the house is still there.

Craftsman bungalow house

Here's the house when I lived in it (picture about 1962).

Craftsman bungalow house

Still amazingly like- the wood shingled porch has been kept and the white paint. I have to wonder how the inside has been changed though. I've heard some things about the beautiful woodwork, so I have no interest in being granted an interior tour.

The maple that creates a shadow on the left side of the roof in the older picture is gone, but the catalpa, just leafing out in the old picture- left of the house, is now completely dominating that side. I did a lot of jumping out of that tree, and stringing of tarp tents between it and the missing maple.

Some of my favorite trees from that era are also gone. They might be a tale for another day. Today, I'll just show you the Google view farther north of the house.

The line of trees and bushes are along the unnamed and seasonal creek. You can see the culvert going under the road. From the road on downstream for probably fifty feet was (is?) a stone sluiceway in which I used to play. Below that was a small almost-pond. I actually could swim in it in the spring- well, I could get wet and splash a lot. Below that was where I went fishing in my new rubber boots. The tree with a reddish cast is the hybrid cherry where my swing and treehouse were.

line of trees beside a creek

There are some places where I desire change and crave new experiences. I think my houses is not one of those. Although much of my childhood was not particularly happy, I love that house. Odd, eh? Thanks for taking this journey with me.

In other news: wrote chapter 13 in The ABZ Affair.

See Sunshine Bungalove
See the fishing picture
if you like this blog, click the +1   or

Like This!

3 comments:

Ann said...

I always hate to see old houses/buildings disappear. It's worse when you have a connection to them.

Ana Radulovic said...

Beautiful post! Your blog is awesome!
Following you ♥ Follow back?

http://colourfulmadness.blogspot.com/

Lin said...

That is a beautiful house, Joan. I can see why you love it so.

My mom is still in my childhood home. I don't like going there because she refuses to update it or make any necessary changes. It is hard to see it.

Related Posts Widget for Blogs by LinkWithin