- Oct 15, 2013
There’s something very comforting about going home for the holidays to the house, and town, you grew up in. The fact that everything still looks basically the same (or better) gives one a warming sense of stability.
I’d like to share my home with you, or rather, the home I grew up in. My mother was the architect and general contractor (so impressive since she’s definitely neither by trade), and my parents put this house together, brick by tile, as I was growing up.
Outside of Welcome, down several winding roads lined by trees and fields with cattle grazing, you’ll find a black mailbox marked Rowland. As you turn down the driveway, you’ll make several turns before you begin to see our blue house through the trees. As you come around another corner, you’ll see this:
One of my favorite things to do while home is to feed the many animals that Read more