This is home.
The place where I grew up. It is on the beautiful Eastern Shore of Maryland. My parents’ house is to the right, out of the picture. I took this picture late in the afternoon as I ventured out for a chilly New Year’s Day walk in the woods. You are looking across our little creek down the Tred Avon River.
I grew up on a farm surrounded by the woods, water, and fields. Pretty perfect if you ask me. My grandparents’ house is on the point which is on the upper left side of the picture. It is named “Auburn.” My grandfather named it for the color of my grandmother’s hair. I always thought that was lovely. He bought the place in 1920; the original house dates back in part to the 18th century. It was built in 3 stages, the last one being in the late 19th century. It was practically falling down at the time he purchased it but he renovated and restored it. My sister lives there now.
My Dad was born at Auburn and when he was a little boy, he would camp out on the point of land opposite from his parents’ house. When he married my mother, they built their house, “Pintail Point,” right there. It’s surrounded on three sides by water.
This is my father ice skating on the creek in 1958. Mom knitted his sweater.
I’ve had a lovely ten days at home spending time with my mom who, if you have been following this blog for a while, you know will be 92 later this month. After the intensity of the fall, it has been so nice to just chill.
I thought I would share some of what I saw on my walk.
Reflections of a beautiful wintry sky and bare trees in the water.
A reflection that makes me pause for a moment and just be still.
Dreamy marsh grass in its winter color – or lack thereof.
Dead leaves and sticks, and patterns in the sand at water’s edge.
A water-beaten tree stump and footprints made by my companion, Emma P. Buttercup.
She left her mark here, too.
Out of the woods and heading out the road toward the sun. There’s Emma on the right in the shadows.
Canada geese winging it toward the water.
And more of them, hundreds of them taking flight.
A peek up at the sky through the trees as we walk down the lane.
My Dad built this bench for the garden years ago. At a certain point, he moved it midway down the lane so he could rest for a moment. He used to walk out to the county road to get the paper every day; it’s about a half mile perhaps. I still walk it every day when I am home, too.
My father died in June 2011. He was the greatest guy in the world. Every time I pass his bench, I say hi. I believe his spirit is often there.
Beautiful winter light in the woods.
Sun going down.
I came back to Richmond yesterday afternoon. It is always so hard to leave.
Perhaps you can now understand why that is so.
A blanket of snow to see me off.
Happy New Year, everyone! May 2014 bring you many joys. And a place to call home.