Looking at it now, you would never know how much this humble place was loved.
It was where I most wanted to be. There was no place on earth, where I was happier.
The tin roof was the color of pewter. And when it rained, the liquid drops sounded like tinkling crystal against the metal.
The outside walls were roughly hewn boards, always painted bright white. Blue Hydrangeas, strategically planted “under the drip of the eaves”, added a touch of lacy elegance to the front corners of the simple porch. Marigolds waved from clay containers…a hedge of crimson roses separated the yard from the road. A couple of yellow and white metal gliders and a creaky, home built white porch swing, provided ample seating for grandkids to tell stories and share dreams…and a good seat for Granny and Papa Clark to hear them.
This house is still loved. Maybe not by the current owners, but by the ones whose memories still linger there.