Now that we've been gone from here for awhile, I'm missing that beautiful sunshine and that fabulous view off the Nova Scotia coast.
The man who built this house came by and knocked on the door. He hadn't been there in at least 5 years but he knocks on our door while we're there. Me, so interested in the history of the house, who owned it, the mystery of some things in the gardens. It was such an opportunity. He couldn't wait to see it and I couldn't wait to show him around and ask all my questions. It made him sad to see the gardens needing such work and the house needing a little more TLC. I heard stories of winter, 2 wells running dry, and about their children. It'd be hard to know who enjoyed the visit more, the 80 year old who had planted the grass, tended the gardens, and built the house or the woman half his age who reveled in its time and glory gone by who can still see the beauty in the surroundings; how they reflect upon a place and strengthen it, and the spirit of a place beneath its dust and grime. How Jesus just might see us.