When I hurried away six weeks ago I wasn't excited about coming back. Millie wasn't house trained yet and utilized every corner of this old house as her dumping grounds. Couple that with the fact that this house is still, in fact, under major renovation, and what you get is the desire to get out. Quick. I couldn't pack and lock the doors fast enough.
I put off coming back as long as I could. Then I breezed into town yesterday, dropped Millie off, and headed immediately to the Copperleaf Spa for a back/neck massage and an organic "resurfacing peel". I love, love, love the Copperleaf Spa and all the women who work there. (I was talking to Vickie just before she did my massage and she immediately asked, "Have you read The Shack?!" Yep. That's the kind of place this is. If you ever come to Freeman House I'll insist you head there.)
So anyway, I finally get home and am just dreading going inside. Then I pushed open the door and... WOOOSH! There it was. The magic. The beautiful old rooms. The worn, crooked pine floors. The wavy-paned windows. The fireplaces and clawfoot tub. And that feeling again. That feeling of being wrapped up... that feeling of prayer and grace... that feeling of being home.
I adore this place. I'd forgotten how much I adore this place.
The sadly neglected garden thrived without me somehow. That God's gracey-magic stuff blankets the garden too, I suppose, so there's tomatoes, peas, squash, potatoes, pumpkins and herbs. I picked peas last night after the sun dropped below the crape myrtle... just in time for visitors to come knocking. We drank Cokes and shelled peas in the library and laughed and laughed. It's better than therapy. I'd forgotten how much I adore this place.
Speaking of which, I need to get those peas put up before I head back to the city later. Just wanted to pop in briefly with an "I am here", and wish you all a free and happy fourth. -Brin