It’s so wonderful to come home. You come home in dreams. In dreams the house that sheltered many lives can transcend time. The voices it used to hear are there again. The backyard in its many transformations blend one into another.
The house when it was new. The house that is old. The house in the middle of its life when sounds and bustle were strongest. The yard when it was at its finest, when it had turned to a garden. The yard in its decline as its garden dissolves. The yard as it will be again when it becomes perfunctory, simple and ordinary again.
The light is always there. Nature in a small patch of ground, warming the red bricks, cheering the heart.
Aletha Kuschan's Weblog 