Tinker Art: Why I Live Where I Live

The Sunday Scribblings "why I live where I live" prompt, immediately brought to my mind the Edgar Guest poem, "It Takes a Heap O'Livin'...[to make a house a home...]

Because for me, it does...houses are everywhere. I've lived in a number of them. Some of them, like the one I grew up in, were definitely Home. Some were just way-stations; a roof to cover us, shelter from the storms of life changes during my first marriage, and before my second one began (not that I was ungrateful for those houses - I am thankful, so thankful that my family and I were never without a place to hang our hats! That we've always been safe, unlike so many people in the world ). But for me, at least, I need the familiarity of touchstones for a house to begin to feel like home...

I painted the flower on the doorbell after being inspired by a photo in one of the first Mary Englebreit Home Companion magazines. Amazing how durable acrylic craft paint can be.

See the bare spot under the maple tree? That's from a tent being pitched there for at least a month, every summer for about 5 (or was it 6?) years, so giggling girls (and often a giggling godson, too) could "camp out" and scare each other silly telling ghost stories by flashlight. The swing on the opposite side - do you see how the maple bark has grown around it through the years? That was hung up there for the little redheaded girl, when we moved in...though she's grown too tall to swing on it, she lifts her nieces onto it and gives them a push now.

That pile of bracken overgrown by periwinkle, behind the jacaranda tree? That's all that's left now of the "twig fort" that Bonnie & Jamie & Mandy built; it served as their secret society meeting place. Their red and brown and blond heads bent together in their conspirator's ring - till they grew too tall to climb in anymore.

This chair here by the 'yesterday, today & tomorrow' shrub is where my mother would often sit and do her crossword puzzles or balance her checkbook, while she waited for the girls and I to get ready to go out shopping or to lunch with her. That scratch on the hardwood floor in the livingroom is from when the paramedics shoved the couch out of the way during their efforts to resuscitate her.

The bedroom in the back is where my husband's mother once lay waiting for the pain to pass; till after many months, it finally did. The hall still has dips and sways from the heavy weight of my father-in-law's steps pacing back to check on her. Their bedroom is now ours. Their devotion to one another, still resonates here.

The daisies; the rosemary; the lavender; that angelface rose? They all contributed their flowers to a very special bride's bouquet and the basket her redheaded flowergirl carried. The appletree on the left was planted the year her first daughter (our grandgirl) was born...and, of course, the one on the right was planted 3 years later, when the second one came along. The little lilac bush between them is one that a dear friend and former neighbor gave to us as a wedding present when we married. Now the grandgirls and I hide behind these trees on our garden benchswing, while we weave fairytales about the grey squirrels bustling about up in the neighbor's treetop.

Up on the hill, there are the pyracantha trees where the robins come to eat, drink and be merry every spring...down lower, the bottle brush trees and bee balm shrub that the hummingbirds love so well...the butterfly bushes we planted for the little wooly-bear caterpillars. There is a narrow path through the ivy; the foxes have worn it down, from our yard to the next, just behind the pool fence, as they hunt for field mice and voles late at night.

The pool! Though now drained and apparently lifeless, I know it will live again! Once again it will know splashing; ring with laughter; and echo the cries of Marco! Polo! I remember how Bonnie and Jamison used to take turns playing "Baywatch" there - lifeguard and drowning swimmer, or shark attack. While Brook floated on her raft, sunglassed and bikini-ed, trying to ignore the younger ones; her mind somewhere 2 hours to the west of us, in her 90210 daydreams. How soothing it was at the end of a hot summer day, to cannonball on in - let the drops fly where they may. Or sometimes, just dangle my legs in the water, watching the dragonflies reconnoiter. Somehow we'll find a way to get a new pump. We'll have our oasis again.

We'll find a way to make all the repairs - to all the things that keep needing to be repaired and replaced in an aging home; because it is home. And I love every crack in the sidewalk; especially the one where the lily of the valley (how did it get in there?) insists on coming up every year - even if it's destined to be trodden upon - because that is Its home.

Home, for me, is where I put down roots, and mine grow deeper here every year.

There's so much more I want to tell you about why I live where I live...I keep coming back and adding a little more. I want to tell you about why I love this little hill, in this little town, in this little valley. How lovely it is, even in the winter, when I can stand here in the sun, surrounded by greenery; yet look up at the snow covering the mountaintops surrounding us. How the maple tree spreads it leafy branches wide in summer to keep the house shaded and relatively cool, even in the Southern California heat. How people here in our little town, can still put bags of oranges or grapefruit out for sale, at the roadside, with just a sign and a coffee can to leave your change in. How we watch out for one another here.

But it's late, and work comes early on Monday, so I'll leave that for another day's scribblings.

Comments

I loved visiting your home in this post. Beautifully portrayed. And a garden will get me every time!

Posted by: Imelda | May 01, 2006 at 03:32 AM

Oh, my! This was wonderful. What a treat for the minds eye. No wonder you love it!

Thank you for the visit to my scibble, and for your post. It made me smile.

Posted by: Amber | May 01, 2006 at 08:42 AM

Also, loved the photos! Beautiful.

Posted by: Amber | May 01, 2006 at 08:43 AM

what a lovely description. i have often longed to put down roots like this. to be surrounded by things infused with meaning. but have never been anywhere long enough.

Posted by: justjohanna | May 01, 2006 at 09:50 AM