Next week will mark ten years since I moved to this house. For all those years, every time I've driven out the driveway or walked to the mailbox, I've looked into the little patch of woods across the road. You can imagine my surprise when I looked over there earlier this week and saw a house I've never seen before. I suppose it could be a new home (there's definitely a new fence around it), but it looks as if it's been there since the last century.
The house is almost invisible in the woods, its wooden frame weathered to a shade of grey that blends in seamlessly with the trunks and branches of the many trees nearby. For most of the year, I'm sure, the leafy canopies of those same trees would provide even more camouflage for the house.
New or old, it's a wonderful house. It's three stories high, with magnificent windows and a wide porch that appears to run completely around the house. It's a noble house, one with a great deal of character. It's the kind of house that isn't scary but should be haunted by gentle spirits.
The woods themselves are a bit frightening at night, but in the daytime they're comforting in their serenity. This time of year, just before the sun goes down, the light behind the trees is so spectacular it catches my breath. The sun, settling down after a hard day's work, pours its most beautiful light onto the green grass of this field, like King Midas spreading out all of his gold, the better to enjoy it.
I'll end with one final photo of the woods, this one with its own bushy-tailed surprise just to the right of dead center. This one's for Annie.