My week at the 100-Acre Wood House was a mixture of hard work and sheer heaven. It was forty-odd years since I could claim to be a professional decorator, but the old tricks of the trade came flooding back and I made good progress, first on the living room ceiling –
(Who said it didn’t need whitening? And that light fixture really has to go!)
– and then on the walls and woodwork –
(That old door from the garage made a great pasting table for the anaglypta)
– until, finally, the last coat of paint had been applied, new face plates fitted to the switches and sockets -
- the lace curtains washed and rehung -
– and, of course –
– a new light fitting installed.
The job was done and, finally, it was time to leave the 100-Acre Wood House and head back to Trish and our home in central Illinois. A week away from the suffocating heat and humidity of Illinois had been bliss, but I missed my wife and now it was time to return to her. We plan to make one more short visit in October, to bed the house down for the long, frigid, Upper Michigan winter.
Before leaving, I took a few minutes to walk the grounds around the house –
– to savor the peace and tranquility –
– to enjoy the blooms and foliage –
– the multitudinous hues and numerous wild flowers tilting their heads above the grass and mosses -
-but, above all, to hold onto that longing for the day we’ll never have to drive away again.
