From 1973 until 2009, this was the place. My longest stay in one location and the childhood home of my children. The house had good bones, as they say, when we arrived and was well worth the $46,500 that we paid for it. But the innards had been remodeled into oblivion. Green shag carpet covering the lovely oak floors; slick craftsman woodwork covered with white paint; stained-glass window replaced and disfigured with a beaded curtain in the style of a New Orleans whorehouse; flocked wall paper; some sort of plastic substance glued onto the pine kitchen floor; and a kitchen untouched since 1917 and hopelessly out of date. It took years to get it into shape, but by the time we left, it was looking mighty fine. I was sad to leave but the time had come to move on.
I still miss the colorful spring garden, stocked with peonies both herbaceous and tree, day lilies, irises, a lovely weigela, and a wall of clematis.
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