I sit here in this quiet place watching the cars drive by.  Hard to understand how they can drive past this place of wonder and barely notice it.  I’ve always admired “little Stonehenge”, but this is the closest I’ve ever been to it.  It’s public property now, and they’ve built a park next to it, but I’ve no idea what they are using the old house and pavilion for.

Tonight, I’ve been thinking of my dream home.  A country house of dark wood, atop a tall hill or grassy mountain.  The front should have ample yard for the kids to play in, but then start to drop off or slope, with a view of the deep valley below.  The back side will have a screened porch, with built-in bench seats, and a door out on the side.  It will overlook a large lake, perhaps with a private pier, or at least a rowboat.  The forest should surround the lake, and creep up on the sides of the house, but it will not surround the front.  The driveway will most likely come up the back, near the lake but not too close.  Or maybe from the side, cutting through the forest.  Far side will be on a slope and the… [that’s the end of the entry.  I have no idea what I meant to write there.]

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This was written sometime this spring.

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