When I saw the road heading up this hill, like a kid, I needed to follow.
There sat an old house, propped up in places, but mostly falling to pieces.
I circled the yard. It was too quiet. There should have been children and laughter. Smoke should have been rolling from the fireplace. The hound dog should have been barking to alert them of my presence.
It made me homesick, though I’d never lived here.
And as they say~ if these walls could talk, what stories they would tell. I think my heart heard a few of them, as I stood there, daydreaming.
“This Old House” kept playing in my mind after we left that day. I grew up listening to Stuart Hamblen, so I must share . Happy Sunday ~♥
