Home, such an evocative word. One that means many things to all manner of people, be it good or bad. The male guardian and I have lived upon our small estate for well over twenty good years. 'Tis a home more than anything, not a possession to show off one's design flair, nor a symbol of one's wealth. Just simply, home. A small cottage, garden and orchard in which to relish the seasons, enjoy nature, nurturing each other and the lifestyle we hold so dear. Comfort reigns along with the ability to kick back and sniff the roses for this is life, not a rehearsal. I do so love our home, a place of sanctuary and comfort; no sharp design statements just wall to wall comfort. To love, laugh, mourn, relax and just be, for this is life; the up's, the down's, traversing the highway, growing older, somewhere to remember the good times and mourn the bad, hopefully wiser and learning to "stand and stare", "sniff the roses" and more. Somewhere to lay your head at the end of the day, to feel oneself relax as it hones into view, driving down a narrow green lane amongst glorious countryside and suddenly there it is, a small stone cottage that lifts the heart, solid and reassuring, our sanctuary, our home. Hard earned and oh, so appreciated for its solid simplicity. A door of our own to open to friends and loved ones, or to close against the storms and push the bolts home. How these walls have seen life over many years of lives lived within them.
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