It is the middle of the month already. We are well into Autumn, although the upper 70's temperature and humidity we came home to yesterday belies that fact. Today we are having thunderstorms! We were up in Connecticut over the weekend for a family wedding and then spent two days in the Endless Mountains in northern Pennsylvania, where we had rain also, but we hiked in it anyway wearing heavy coats because of the chill. Now we are home and must see to bringing in the plants and putting away outdoor furniture. I've already brought down the storm windows. The Dahlias are still in bloom, but the Cone Flowers have all faded. . . .
I've just finished two books by D. E. Stevenson--the last one I read in the car on our trip. Ms. Stevenson (1892-1973) set her books in her native Scotland. The two stories I've read, Sarah's Cottage and Celia's House, center around houses. They are the type of stories that don't seem to be going anywhere in particular--just the daily life of people over a span of many years--but I found myself caring about them and have ordered a third book through my library's state-wide system to follow Celia's story. Both stories have houses that the family has lived in for centuries. The idea of this has always appealed to me, perhaps because growing up I lived in 15 different houses in 18 years.
We've lived in this house for more than 33 years--since our oldest was two. My dream is to pass the house on to one of our boys so they can raise their children here for at least part of their lives (as we hope to live here a great deal longer!) and then pass it on to the next generation. But, in reality, I will probably have to content myself with reading fictional accounts of generations of a family living in one house, making it a home for the next generation, keeping it "alive" and full of sweet memories, giving roots--real roots--to the next generation.
My question this month is: Has there ever been a family home passed down in your family? Or perhaps you live in it right now? Would you like to live in the home you grew up in once your parents pass on?
My Arbor garden has finished its bloom. Only the window box has a few rain-soaked petunias. But Autumn has made its mark in the lovely shade of red leaves on the Dogwood tree. . . .
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